Welcome back to your week in review. It’s August and news slows down when I’m not paying attention to it, so this will be a lazy wrap-up of the week. I’m reporting to you from the most beautiful land on Earth. No, not Jerusalem. It’s Northern California. Everyone should be fighting over the Sonoma County coast. Houthis, you have no idea.

But first: I’ve been pleading with the Big Bosses (myself) for years to get a business intern here at The Free Press. I need someone to help bring strategic rigor to my wardrobe—sorting Tevas by season, function, color—and also to the company, which I guess could use someone with a calculator. We’ve finally got the go ahead. So if you or someone you love (or hate) has great energy, loves The Free Press, understands the media industry and marketing, and wants to get in on the ground floor of this business empire, please send a note and a résumé to careers@thefp.com.

→ Oh no, he’s doing an addition: Trump has announced that he will be adding to the White House. From the visitors webpage, where I get my news: “The White House State Ballroom will be a much-needed and exquisite addition of approximately 90,000 total square feet of ornately designed and carefully crafted space, with a seated capacity of 650 people—a significant increase from the 200-person seated capacity in the East Room of the White House.”

The renderings show indeed a lovely-looking ballroom, but there’s something off to my eye, something glittering a little too brightly. Oh, it’s the gold. Everything that can be flecked in gold is flecked. Nary a cornice has been left ungilded. Only Trump would dare to slap an addition onto our most iconic, tasteful home. It does seem needed. It’s weird that we only can seat 200 in the place? So the addition is necessary, like how I need a laundry room (a lot, Bar! I cannot do the stacked tower anymore, I simply cannot). Trump reads as an Ottoman president, and this is what worries me about this addition. I look through at any interior he’s ever had influence over, a catalog of domestic horror. No, this cannot be. We need the ballroom but to do it we need a tight, unsmiling. horsey-looking woman—yes, a WASP, I said it—to supervise all interior decisions. Every chair should be uncomfortable, as if to say it’s humiliating that we’re sitting down and trust that it will be brief. The couches should be so narrow you’re forced to stand behind them. The lamps will have so many tassels that the light barely comes through.

But Trump seems to be highly involved (he and some donors are footing the bill), proving that he’s not only the first gay president, but also his own First Lady. A reporter spotted the president walking the White House roof, and Trump shouted down: “Just taking a little walk.” He’s mapping it out with his eyes, and he’s doubling the square footage every time he does. He wants to know about acoustics and he wants to talk about seasonal florals as soon as possible.

Looking at the renderings makes me yearn for functional late-night comedy hosts, because this would be great grist for their mills (I’m talking Jimmy Kimmel doing a little jig, Fallon having a sleepover in the new ballroom). Instead they are all just grabbing the camera and delivering diatribes about the dangers of charter schools.

Oh, and the president recently finished his remodel of the Rose Garden. Before and after:

I’m sure it’s more practical—think about being a D.C. television lady in sharp heels navigating that lawn every week. A lawn is a horrible place to constantly put chairs. And yet: Covering furniture with plastic is more practical, but we don’t do it.

The new Rose Garden looks like where you get in a screaming match with your brother and ruin the wedding reception. I feel like Eric and Don Jr. are going to have a swordfight there to decide who gets the Northeast. It looks both too cold and too hot. ...