A clean well lighted hotel room

Oh, the classic conundrum of arriving in a hotel room in a distant city with nothing in particular to do. What to do? First must eat, but then. TV? Web? Sleep? The possibilities are endless, but not the time.

And so, Washington DC. Our nation's fair capital, hot, humid, urban and quasi-urbane but with much bad furniture and often only reasonable hair. A town where people would seem to do the things they think people are supposed to do in cities, like the black T shirt punks out my window down by Dupont Circle sitting in the dirt strumming a guitar. That's city living. Maybe kids do this in New York too, and I don't see em. Some do it in Princeton, and they're silly.

We'll see.