As I drove into work, I noticed there was a firetruck parked at the end of Twelfth Street, directly across from my building. Mental images of my burning office danced about in my head. As I turned onto N Street to find a parking space, I saw three police cars all parked directly in front of the main lobby entrance.

When I got into the lobby the first words I heard were "suspicious envelope". One of the guys who works downstairs in a shop near the mailroom was standing there dangling a small blue envelope between his thumb and forefinger. It had those little stripes around the edge like it was international mail.

This Anthrax thing is getting out of control.