My apologies for the rambling post, but I’ve been sitting on this for awhile and I just needed to get it down. I promise to return you to something that makes a bit more sense next time around.

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Walking around downtown DC yesterday, I noticed something interesting — well, in a city positively drenched in history, it’s hard not to notice something interesting, but bear with me here. Elizabeth — here for a New Year’s visit — and I were walking off a late lunch from Old Ebbitt Grill and I suggested going to take a look at the White House, given our proximity to it at the time. Unfortunately, I forgot that pretty much every view of the president’s residence was blocked by bleachers and inauguration construction.

However, despite the fact that there was no single place where one could get a decent picture, this particular bit of Pennsylvania Avenue was just as crowded as ever. And that was where it hit me — in just a little more than two weeks, things are going to change and nobody on the street at the time seemed to care. Regardless of who you are or your views — Democrat, Republican, Atheist, Vegan, etc. — come January 20, we’re looking at a potentially drastic step away from what we’ve come to know over the last eight years, maybe even the last few administrations.

The people there were just going about their business as usual while I stood there, momentarily dumbfounded. Tourists were still snapping photos of everything. One of Xenu’s followers was shouting epiphanies about Cthulu from the street corner. A street musician was playing a jazzy version of “You Are My Sunshine” on a slightly sharp-sounding saxophone (cold weather will do that to an instrument, you know).

My surprise was quickly tempered by the realization that DC has been adjusting since the election. We’ve been all “changed out” from the deluge of election coverage on the news, PR statements from the President Elect, the satirizing of anything and everything about the candidates, the various transition teams reorganizing everything from the feng shui of offices to the fake plants in the restrooms, and — let’s face it — there’s bigger fish to fry currently. With the world seemingly going to hell on a daily basis, a presidential inauguration is something that we can count on to run like clockwork.

Heck, a whole cottage industry of cheap souvenirs and discounted housing springs up every four years to deprive people’s wallets of their cash. I happen to know of one guy who’s renting out his front lawn in the suburbs for people to set up their tents. He’s charging extra for use of the facilities in his house, which seems like a silly idea. He may as well just put a sign out saying “dump raw sewage here.”

But there’s money to be made on the record crowds coming here. People from all walks of life — fawning groupies, political acolytes, raving supporters and detractors, and everyone else just looking to share in a historic moment — are going to flood the streets and fill the Metro and keep me from getting to Safeway to get my groceries.

But the clocks tick on, so there’s no point in sitting here, idly reflecting on reality. Like it or not, we’re going to be waking up to something new. So, we might as well get used to it. Once those bleachers come down, the White House is still going to be there. The teeming masses of people will go home and we’ll be left to face whatever comes next. And I will still need to do my Arabic homework — which, incidentally, I’ve neglected all weekend.