Even on break, a Congress weary of Trump gets no respite from him

WASHINGTON — Washington needs a vacation from itself.

“Doing nothing is exhausting,” said Jason Chaffetz, the former Republican congressman from Utah, whose head start began with a surprise resignation in June.

Yet for those who remain in Congress — and across the city’s motley roster of aides, journalists, consultants and lobbyists — the collective exhaling over this August recess has been complicated, as ever, by President Donald Trump.

No commander in chief in recent memory has rendered elected officials more vacationready. Nor has any exacted a greater psychic toll on them once they got away.

The result has been a recess on edge, with daily prayers to the swamp gods that the president refrain from any sudden movements that would upset the hard-won quiet.

“Under this presidency, every hour feels like a day. Every day feels like a week. Every week feels like a month,” said Rep. Hakeem Jeffries, D-N.Y. “Both the American people and the Congress do need a mental health break.”

It has indeed been a particularly long seven-twelfths of a year, by any measure except math. Tweets have been tweeted. Resisters are resisting. Bills have rarely become laws, but the journey has been taxing.

Of course, the first rule of a Washington vacation is that it must not be labeled a vacation.

“Meetings and calls!” Trump posted on Twitter from his club in Bedminster, N.J., over the weekend, describing his getaway plans as he began a 17-day out-of-town residency. A social media spy soon spotted him in a golf cart.

Among members of Congress, “district work period” is the preferred euphemism, though many do spend much of their month visiting with constituents.

Already, Trump has found ways to encroach.

It is clear by now that Twitter cannot be left unmonitored. Even workaday cable news appearances run the risk of rousing the First Viewer, especially if adverse weather upends executive tee times in New Jersey.

On Monday morning, with conditions soggy in Bedminster, Sen. Richard Blumenthal, D-Conn., spoke with CNN about investigations into Trump and his team.

A short while later, an aide reached the senator with an update: The president was at it again.

“Interesting to watch Senator Richard Blumenthal of Connecticut talking about hoax Russian collusion when he was a phony Vietnam con artist!” Trump wrote. Before joining the Senate, Blumenthal made misleading remarks about having “served in Vietnam” when in fact he served in a Marine Reserve unit in Washington. Trump himself received five deferments from the draft, including one for bad feet.

Asked hours later how his recess was going, Blumenthal drew a long breath.

“Well,” he said by phone. “It feels like it’s barely begun.” He added that he was on the way to visit a veterans’ health center.

For Republicans, the break has delivered a different kind of angst after a failed health care repeal effort in the Senate. Most have chosen to avoid the types of raucous town hall settings that could provoke confrontations with voters. But at least they are home. Initially, Sen. Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., the majority leader, said the chamber would remain in session until midmonth. Trump himself had insisted lawmakers stay in town until the health care impasse was resolved.

By last Thursday, three days into August, bipartisan consensus reigned inside the Capitol in the case of Washington v. Anywhere Else.

Sensing the prospect of mass exodus, lawmakers swiftly passed important legislation to finance the Food and Drug Administration, approved dozens of presidential nominees and set off on their “state work period.”

No votes, no caucus meetings, no reporters lurking around every corner of their workplace. No shoes, no shirt, no problem. Except, well.

“It’s hard for me to say that they shouldn’t be there right now,” said Jason Pye, vice president of legislative affairs at FreedomWorks, a conservative advocacy group, echoing a widespread view among activists angry with the output of a Republican-led Congress. “There’s not a lot of sympathy there at all, especially on the Senate side.”

And already by Tuesday evening, lawmakers had been compelled to snap to attention once more. Trump told reporters at his golf club he would unleash “fire and fury” against North Korea if it endangered the United States.

Instantly, staff members strained to catch up, hustling in their home offices. Statements were prepared in their bosses’ names. The city stirred, grudgingly.

Washington had not been sleeping. It was just resting its eyes. And it was time, like it or not, for meetings and calls.