She ran for the Senate as a taker -- she didn't live in New York and she didn't care that she didn't deserve that, either. When she got to the Senate, she could at last do as she wanted, at home with unapologetic liberals and noisy feminists. But as secretary of state, she's carrying water for someone else not nearly as smart as she is (so she thinks).
She can't like the impolitic way the president has treated Israel, making trouble for the Jews and always looking to cut the Palestinians the edge. She can't say anything about that, either, though she knows her old constituents in Manhattan, many of them Jewish, are unhappy it.
She liked being loved in New York, surrounded by liberals and practiced sophisticates who agreed with her on just about everything. As secretary of state, she's the parrot for a president still stuck in the community organizing game Saul Alinsky taught him.
How it must gall her to be nice, or at least civil, to the creeps behind the scenes with whom she must deal. WikiLeaks showed us that. She has to deal with bureaucrats at State from whom she must hide, or at least disguise, contempt. Good ol' Bill loves politics and politicians, and would trade his foundation for campaign politics in a New York minute. But she thrives in wholehearted adulation, which she will get in abundance as Lady Bountiful in a foundation of her own.
Why shouldn't she laugh at the idea that she might run for president again? An answer to a question at the town hall in Bahrain speaks volumes. "Every president, if you watch what they look like when they come into office," she observed, "you can see their hair turn white because it's such a hard job." What woman wants to be a white-haired old lady before her time?