New York is generally the city  this grammarian is in, but not always.  On a recent trip to Washington, D.C., I found myself puzzled by more than politics:

This sign was in the window of a shop specializing in shipping and receiving packages. At first I thought the clerks were tired of inquiries about a service they did not provide, but the walls were lined with mail boxes. My next theory was that the sign would disappear when the mail showed up. Over the course of four days, though, the sign remained, even at night. My third and final thought — though I’m open to suggestions — is that this sign is an existential statement (“The mail is not here because it, like life, is an illusion”).

Before I returned to New York to retrieve my all-too-existent mail, mostly ads and bills, I walked around the capital. Tiring, I headed for the metro on 12th Street.  I was heartened by the fact that I was currently on 13th. Only one block to go, I thought. Wrong! Here’s what I saw at the next corner:

That’s it for Washington. Friendly grammarians in other cities sent me these gems. From Ellie in Montreal:

One can only hope that this fellow’s brick work is better than his spelling of “chimney.”

Here’s a contribution from Don in San Francisco:

I do hope that the “ethnic ingredients” have been cooked into some sort of meal, rather than presented as a set of separate, grocery-store packages. Ditto for the “can vegetables.” And while we’re on the subject of “can vegetables,” is that something the restaurant really wants to brag about?  Or is this some sort of “truth in labeling” requirement?  Given that both halves of the sign are labeled “lunch & dinner,” the offerings are strange. I guess you could enjoy them on a half-street, next to a fireplace with a clean chimniey, as you read no mail.