So I drive to work every morning along the 118, across the northeastern spine of the San Fernando Valley across to the 5 freeway, which I then follow to Burbank, bleary-eyed and swilling coffee from 7-11.

On the 118, in the upper reaches of Northridge and Granada Hills and North Hills or all those ridges and hills and whatever you want to call them, a number of bridges connect the suburban sprawl on the Valley side with the narrower band of houses and streets, mid-70s developments, abutting the brown hills (that would be Oat Mountain).

On a regular basis these bridges are festooned with messages to the drivers below. Usually it’s HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTT or a cross and a heart made out of individual ribbons tied onto the chain-link fence. Sometimes it’s JEFF LOVES SARAH or HAPPY GRADUATION TERESA.

This morning, though, totally changed my grumbly outlook on the day ahead. In the smallish metallic letters linked by metal brads, the kind you can buy at a party store that usually fold out to say “Happy Birthday,” someone had hung HAPPY MONDAY on the overpass near Woodley.

I was going 76mph and didn’t see it until the last minute, so I don’t have a photo. But whoever hung that early-morning greeting over the 118 East, I’d like to send you a big thank-you for making my day. And I’d figure I’d pass it on to all of you, readers. Happy Monday.