(Job) Hunting in D.C.
At the end of last month, Mark and I flew to D.C. hoping to shoot us a Job (which these days are rather crafty, showing up in only select locations, and usually not where we are). The airplane that got us there had some obfuscating pictures that were supposed to direct us in what to do in an emergency, but seemed instead to tell us that only those wearing high heels and carrying luggage would be allowed to exit. [This is why punctuation is important. Remember, don't eat Grandma .] Neither of us had slept well the night before (particularly Mark), and planes don't offer much comfort to those in the economy section, so we took a nap as soon as we arrived at our motel. And then I woke up and found a bug in the sheets, killed it, and called the front desk to ask for a new top sheet. They were kind enough to offer us a new room, which happened to be a suite, but the jury is still out on whether it was nicer. The door to the suite didn't shut well, which was probably bec