Around 3 PM I was in the studio, working on my hair. (in the self
portrait) Had spent several days working and reworking the mingled grey
and brown. Was avoiding my face.
Heard a car pull into the driveway. Bloody hell, what now? Was
concentrating on applying a murky brown which I had mixed myself.
Decided to pretend I wasn't home.
Heard knock. Didn't answer.
"Dorothy. I know you're in there.
It was unmistakenly Sid.
His New York accent only somewhat mellowed by 50 years in California.