I thought I would miss Barack and Michelle Obama’s White House, and I do. Instead of the people’s house, filled with life and activity and concerts and elegant state dinners and children planting gardens and exercising with the First Lady, we have the crazy uncle in the attic pacing around in his bathrobe in the middle of the night, generating paranoid tweets. The Queen is in the tower in New York — note that Trump doesn’t go there on the weekends, to see her or his young son. Trump goes to Florida, where he plays golf with cronies.
The White House feels dark and empty and cold, pretty much like the Trump presidency.