Like Wayan, I am also not a big fan of the CVS at 15th and K. It’s shabby, cramped, poorly-lit, and even more poorly-stocked, as opposed to the CVS at Connecticut and K, which I worked right next to for over two years. But I had a brief experience there today that made me think I could develop some affection for it.
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By Tom Bridge
I’ve never understood the courthouse need to ban pretty much anything that plugged in to a wall, but it seems Arlington has gone to the level of prohibiting anything electronic inside the courthouse. Of course, what’s really odd is that this sign is facing the offices of the County, and not the actual courthouse which is on the other side of the parking lot, on the other side of Courthouse road.
Bad sign placement? Possibly. Bad policy? Definitely.
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By Wayan
It is 8am in Zurich and I am about to have beer for breakfast, poured by a fellow Washingtonian.
Ingrid is a wonderful Swiss-American view. Especially when she does not blink at my breakfast choice.
In fact, one of the reasons she left the States was our movement towards the nanny state. She prefers the Swiss neutrality on most things.
As the guy next to me lights up, the joy of Zurich starts to fade. We might not be the land of absolute freedom, but I do miss Smoke Free DC.
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By brownpau
Here’s something you don’t see everyday on Metro: the station cleaning train, passing through Metro Center. It was just about midnight when I saw it zoom by on the opposite side of the station, near the end of an 18 minute wait for the last Red Line train of the evening. It did not stop, however; clearly there was some station up in the direction of Shady Grove in far more desperate need of Station Cleaning services than the one I was at. Anyone else seen this marvel of modern engineering? Maybe you have a clearer photo of it in action.
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By Don
I started to comment on Mike’s post about his tennis Nazi and decided it was enough to justify writing my own post on the matter. Unlike the fortunate Mr Maguire, I live out in the suburbs for financial and practical reasons. I could share them, but what the hell do you care? Suffice to say, this way I get to have a basement full of woodshop and a 20 minute pleasant ride to the office in the morning and money left over for food. So, to the story:
I got the joy of sitting through a HOA meeting a few weeks back since my friend and generous landlord wanted to paint some trim and replace a door. This, of course, requires paperwork and approval since it diverges from the status quo in the most minuscule way. After this ninety-minute exercise in misery, I have come to the conclusion that the hell that is an HOA board is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
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By 
