Year in, year out, I am always unprepared for that first blast of Washington summer air, the one that hits like a physical force the moment between leaving the airplane and entering the transport bus at Dulles Airport in mid-July. Those few, non-air-conditioned seconds always serve to remind me that I don't need the sweater that seemed so necessary in northern Europe, that I've entered a new time zone, that it's time to readapt to the customs and habits of my hometown.
This year, I was equally unprepared for a new Washington phenomenon: the flat, stifling strategy vacuum that hits like a physical force when you enter a discussion about Syria.
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