Changing topic, I didn’t tell you a few weeks ago I met with a high school student for an interview. She’s writing a paper about me because of the clerkship. When she came to the house in sweatpants about five sizes too large and her wet hair thrown up in a mess on top of her head I thought, well, she looks about as bright as a root cellar, but she asked me good questions, as a matter of fact. The child knew something about government and politics. I did enjoy thinking about everything again. She recorded the conversation as if she was Bob Woodward.
