Mount Vernon revisited

Welcome back to our virtual tour of Mount Vernon, George Washington's home when he was not (a) fighting the Revolutionary War or (b) running the new country or (c) following Mrs. George around to all the popular shops in Philadelphia. As we noted yesterday, Mr. Washington actually spent very little time at Mount Vernon, and considering the hideous dark paint covering the walls from floor to ceiling in his front parlor, we do not blame him.

The schedule for seeing the Mansion went approximately like this:

2:00-4:00 Wait in line outside in 94 degrees, your only entertainment the individuals in line behind you, who spend the time in discourse on whether Washington is really buried at Mount Vernon (consensus: only his wooden teeth are buried there).

4:00-4:03 Tour Mansion.

To keep to this schedule, there are costumed interpreters in each room of the Mansion whose sole job is to repeat such boring pieces of information about the house in 5-second loops that visitors are thankful to escape to the next room. Questions are not allowed; this would slow down the movement of visitors within the house, and the interpreters would not be allowed to answer them anyway because all information is still top-secret, such as whether the glop of food on the sideboard in the dining room was actual food in Washington's time that has been preserved.

We felt somewhat akin to Washington when we heard that his house has no square walls, as our does not either. Unlike Washington we do not have chamber pots, which we are extremely thankful for, although with the way our toilet has been acting lately, perhaps we should have some for backup. Now if the gift shops on the grounds really want to offer some useful items, this would be one of them. Unfortunately I did not see any.

But back to the Mansion.

One guide has been there since the Mansion opened for tours back in 1872, telling countless shuffling visitors about the cobweb in the corner of the blue bedroom that is original to George's time. We got just a glimpse of it as we were whisked along by the crowd to the brown room, and we saw no reason to doubt the guide's information.

The one room we were allowed to linger at was George and Martha's bedroom. Many guests commented upon the large bed, which was specially made to fit George's large frame, although we were assured by the guide in the room that his wooden teeth did not repose with him in the bed. What impressed me, however, was not the bed. I nudged Joe. "Look at the size of that closet!" And we, the owners of an old home whose total storage space equals the trunk space in Smart cars, gazed longingly at the first walk-in closet in an American residence, dreaming of what we could do with all that space. Our dreams were rudely interrupted by the throng behind us pushing us down the stairs, and our tour resumed.

As you can no doubt tell, Mount Vernon is very impressive. We contemplated everything we had seen as we made our way out of the house, and Joe inquired as to what was my favorite part. The banister that is original to the house? The chandelier that is 80 years older than George himself? The impressive closet?

As amazing as all these things were, my thoughts were elsewhere as I busily did some calculations. "Do you realize that no one has lived in this house for 150 years? Do they ever dust? Sweep the floors? Change the mattresses?"

We'll never know the answers, although given the size of the cobwebs, I have a pretty good idea.