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I’m ready! I ask, “How’s it work?” She rolls her eyes—ugh, rude! Says, “Cash upfront, kid.” I’m like, “I got jellyfish jam!” She ain’t impressed. “Man’s a beast,” she grumbles—another *Leviathan* zinger! I’m thinkin’, “Lady, I’m a sponge!” Total mismatch, right? Laughed so hard I squeaked!

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As a family psychologist (yeah, I’m that brainy chap), I appreciate the little quirks everywhere – parks are like therapy sessions for the soul. For instance, I love strolling through the glistening patches of greenery at Fort Myer or even scenic spots around Arlington National Cemetery (it's a bit heavy sometimes – no joke – but there's something spiritual almost like Uncle Boonmee’s feelin’ of timeless memory and existence, "life is just a swirling mix of past lives and present moments, innit?"). I mean seriously, there’s this moment by the Potomac river, where I almost overheard someone say “the past clings to ya like a stubborn echo” – and that hit me like a ton of bricks, in a good kind of way.

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