These last two days, I again stayed in for my yoga. Now, at least, it was in a new, somewhat more interesting spot: the DC hotel I ended up staying at (after my spur-of-the-moment flight there on the 5th).
For all the spontaneity of my arrival in DC, there's not much to say about my yoga there. The hotel room was adequately sized. I had enough room to twist and stretch, after moving a chair. The room did not smell, or otherwise offend the senses. There were no dead bodies under the bed. Unfortunately, with the hotel being in the smack-dab middle of downtown DC, it offered no inviting grass lawn, or other yoga-friendly outdoor amenities (the window my yoga was done under, pictured here, opened onto a courtyard filled with garbage containers and a massive, steaming industrial machine with no obvious function).
And again, just for consistency, here's a snapshot of the precise carpet on which I yoga'd, because you really, really need to see it (and my feet):
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