People ask what it's like to live in the White House. I sometimes say that it's a bit like what I imagine living in a fancy hotel might be like, only the fancy hotel has no other guests in it -- just you and your family. There are fresh flowers everywhere, with new ones brought in almost every day. The building itself feels old and a little intimidating. The walls are so thick and the planking on the floors so solid that sound in the residence seems to get absorbed quickly. The windows are grand and tall and also fitted with bomb-resistant glass, kept shut at all times for security reasons, which further adds to the stillness. The place is kept immaculately clean. There's a staff made up of ushers, chefs, housekeepers, florists, and also electricians, painters, and plumbers, everyone coming and going politely and quietly, doing their best to keep a low profile, waiting until you've moved out of a room before slipping in to change the towels or put a fresh gardenia in the little vase at the side of your bed.

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