My parents asked me last night, “Do you miss your car?”
Sold it to my dad, by the way: it’s still technically mine, the lien release only came last week, but the last day it was mine was July 4th. I’ve driven it once, since, to the Eastern Shore and back.
And the answer is, no, I don’t miss it. Not on a regular basis, anyway. I don’t need it to get to work: for the office job, I run the Red Line up into the county, and catch a RideOn shuttle. Reverse coming home. For the part time job, I run the Red Line two stops south and walk a block. Driving in this area is ridiculous, time consuming. Don’t get me started on parking.
They’ve been doing work on the Red Line this weekend and last. “Single tracking”, which means that either the north or south running track is closed off, and trains wait on the platform while others come in the wrong way: seriously, it’s freaky to stand on the platform and see a southbound train come in on the northbound track. Also: it takes forever. Usually, on the weekends, there’s a train every five or ten minutes: single tracking? Try twenty.
I decided to explore Dupont Circle a bit, motivated largely by all I’ve been hearing of the bookstores in that area, and made my way counterclockwise from the Metro egress. Second Story (west of Dupont on P Street) is nice and big, with an eclectic selection of pulp-paperbacks, to rare and expensive clothbound copies. DVDs, CDs, and LPs, too. Plus artwork — mostly old, vintage (super expensive) movie posters. Found a copy of the Backdraft soundtrack, I love orchestral musical scores, and I’ve always loved this film’s score. For $5 with 20% off, this was a no brainer.
Kramerbooks, on Connecticut, was cramped. Small store with a long line of people waiting table space at the cafe backing into the book area. Most of their selection seemed to be current bestsellers, the stuff I see every day at the Big Box Bookstore I work at. They had some “core” fiction and sci-fi titles, but I couldn’t tell if it’s supposed to be a restaurant in a bookstore or a bookstore in a restaurant.
Books-a-Million was a very nice, clean, big bookstore. By the standards of the Big-Box I work in, it is very small, but they had the registers full manned, and the shelves were well stocked. I glanced through the graphic novel section — no copies of The Dark Knight Returns? Only one Hellboy? WTF. A decent place, although it sort of had the vibe of a discount retailer: I think that had more to do with the dark carpet, the dark bookshelves, and the signage.
I was going to go grocery shopping today. There are a couple of family markets near me, both north in Cleveland Park proper, and south in Woodley Park. They’re good for the staples, but expensive, although not mind blowingly so. I usually go to these places for milk: $4.50 is expensive, but the same milk is $4 at Giant. Speaking of Giant, I use the Giant Food at the Van Ness Metro. It’s a ridiculously tiny grocery store, but very clean, beautiful, and while it doesn’t have the range of stock or bulk of the larger country stores, it’s got everything I need, and a friendly courteous staff, to boot. In any case, after waiting on a train for ten minutes stopped on the platform waiting for a southbound train to “single track”, I decided to wait on shopping until Monday night, and walked home, detouring without much thought into the National Zoo.
I actually haven’t been to the Zoo since sometime in early April. That day, a weekday, was cloudy and damp and cool, the Zoo was nearly empty: not only of tourists and sight-seers, but also of animals. There were some Polish horses I saw, and half an elephant through a door in the Elephant House. I write this, mind, sitting on my couch, feet up on a wood chest, looking out my windows at the Aviary. So, I spent a few minutes looking at a sleeping Cheetah, then, having had enough with the crowds, walked home.
