Inaug.

Is on Tuesday.

Bleachers line Pennsylvania Avenue, and behind them, an unending row of port-o-potties squatting in a fog of sickly disinfectant. American flag banners are draped across every building along the parade route and there are metal road barriers everywhere. The front of the Capitol building has been transformed into an ever-expanding white stage, and behind the White House, at the end of the line, stand glass-enclosed box seats built for the skulking power brokers of the outgoing Administration and dem VIPs, expectant and smug.

Local newspapers have been printing updates on the parties with the most awe-inspiring guest lists and live performances. Daily updates. Even the cynics and hipsters are joining in the milieu--Brightest Young Things is hosting an all-day affair on U street. Rock n Roll Hotel has a post-Inauguration Jell-o wrestling tournament planned.

It hasn't been a week since the Christmastime tourists left, and the Inaugural tourists are now flooding in, an event for which my dread has been assiduously mounting since New Year's eve.

I'm uncomfortable, and I'm feeling very, very guilty about it.

Every news source, every person not living in D.C., every one capable of giving input anywhere on Earth has basically insisted that this is the Best Thing to Ever Happen and that anyone with the high privilege of witnessing the Inauguration should be lighting incense hourly and sending prayers up to whatever benevolent god bestowed to them this gift of the ages. I'm ashamed to admit that my prevailing reaction to all of this is to lock myself in my house and emerge some time next Thursday. Instead of enjoying this huge, historical event, all I can think of at every moment is that I'm probably missing out on something amazing, which then makes me question the entire foundation of my life, and why didn't I try harder or insist further or arrange more carefully?

A close friend whose opinion I value told me that I have a hard time just enjoying myself at a party because I'm constantly wondering if someone else is having more fun than me, and if so, why. And that's just in parties. Parties! This event takes that feeling and amplifies it by FIVE MILLION.

So I know I'm being myopic and selfish and pitiful, but I thought that if I attempted to articulate this feeling that it would dissipate. Um, so far, that hasn't happened. It's fairly a guarantee that as soon as all of the chaos of this inauguration is forgotten, I'll spend the rest of my life making immodest and effusive mention of the fact that I lived in Capitol Hill when Obama became President. Which makes me think that I should just relax and take in whatever comes my way. And maybe enjoy it.