While I was playing tennis today I thought, This is a great story, how strange and annoying this woman is, her dumb jokes (She has Someheimer's, instead of Alzheimer's), the way she immodestly lifts up her white skirt to show me where she keeps the balls, how she constantly name drops (Ivan Lendl?) and brags (I used to win this division every year), and how she knows all the rules and won’t let me leave the court even one minute early, even though she has won one game out of the 18 we have played. But then I came home and for some reason it wasn’t a great story. Why is it that hating other people is rarely a good story? I wonder, because hating people is actually a very interesting activity, while you’re doing it.