Fourth of July at the St. Regis Washington, D.C. Early evening. Near triple digits outside. AC blasting. Feeling rich from cashing in some credit card points. My better half lounging on the enormous bed, flipping through a complimentary copy of Town & Country magazine—Donna Karan says it's not about me, it's about we. She's wrong. It's all about me as I polish off my shower beer and shave before dinner at Zaytinya. There's a remote control on the counter between the sinks, but where's the TV? Power on. An image magically appears in the middle of the bathroom mirror. The TV is inside the mirror! So ingenious, so unnecessary, so ... wonderful. I find the channel broadcasting the Independence Day concert taking place down the street. There's some Muppets, Jimmy Smits introducing Gladys Knight, and I'm shaving and watching TV at the same time without cutting my lips off. It's amazing, and I'll suffer greatly when I'm once again forced to shave with a non-TV-impregnated mirror. O luxury items. How you vex me.
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