PTSD

and at length we stood two cables away

So it turns out that I rather fail at reading calendars. An example: my parents (oh, yes. My father has decided to make his yearly visit, too) are coming to stay with us. Next weekend. Thursday, in fact. Or perhaps Wednesday. They haven't decided yet.

I'm not completely panicked about what I'm going to do to keep them entertained for four days in April. Not completely.

Just mostly.

I'm falling back on some old favorites (the gardens at Dumbarton; the Cathedral; 2 Amys) and adding in some new must-see stuff (the Air and Space museum at Dulles, which is utterly brilliant; Bugaboo Creek in Germantown).

My mother is bringing her camera; my father will probably bring a book. Or three.

I've even found a concert to attend, because the universe loves me and is bringing Great Big Sea to town on Friday night. At the Warner.

Canadian Celtic music and sea shanties are a point of convergence in our musical interests. And the show is at a great theater, near a metro stop and with actual seats for my parents to sit in.

This is surprisingly important to them.

So I seem pretty well set, right? With entertainment and sightseeing and such?

Except. For reasons known only to them, they want to stay in a hotel. With an indoor pool. And a hottub.

Shut up. I don't want to think about why, okay?

But I do need hints for hotels that don't cost an arm and a leg. Preferably in suburban Maryland or NW. Any hints?

posted by Elizabeth @ 3:47 PM