Since I moved, folks ask, kind of a lot, whether I miss Washington.
In general, I gotta say, no.
I miss specific people, a lot. I'd say, "you know who you are," but I'm bad at the mushy stuff, so you probably don't know who you are. If you think or even hope I might miss you a little, know that I probably miss you a lot. Yeah, you.
And I miss events. There have been some big events, and small ones, that I wish I could have been at — christenings and celebrations of lives ended too soon, holiday parties and movie nights and happy hours. So, yeah, I miss events.
But mostly, I haven't missed being in D.C. much at all. Car horns and shoving, Code Orange and mismanagement, as it turns out, are the kinds of things you can get over fast.
But tonight, for some reason, I miss the bugle at Fort Myer playing Taps, which I used to be able to hear from my bed.
They say it's the little things. Guess so. Because, really? Taps, more than sports teams and public transportation and monuments?
OK, next post will be back to the funny.