I'm not waiting on a lady, I'm just waiting on a friend

Sitting in 14U on this ever so snowy afternoon. It's been an interesting week to be a DC resident. Take for instance Wednesday, which was warm enough to walk to and from work, and on the way to the office I spied a very interesting woman outside the Columbia Heights Giant. She was maybe a bag lady, maybe a little crazy. She work layers, and black boots, and a skirt. She had a grocery push cart and a hat and a cane. As I was about 2/3 of a block away she was hollering something that I couldn't understandt (I was quite fixated on listening to "Neon Bible"). As I got closer I was able to watch her a little bit. She walked forward a few steps, planted her cane on the sidewalk with authority, and brought her head down to rest on the top of it. She then hollared something at the ground, and after a moment lifted her right leg into the air. To me it looked like particularly slow motion interprestation of an old jazz dance move, though I am sure to some it could have also looked like a woman doing an interpretation of a dog peeing on a tree (sans tree). She did this a couple more times before I was far enough away to not be aware of it.
Yesterday a friend and I took an excursion to go thrifting. We braved the wiles of Northern Virginia, specifically Arlington and Alexandria. We found the Salvation Army. Two different Salvation Armies, across the the street from one another. And the Barnside Diner. If you're ever there you should try their gyros. Not that we did (we are both vegetarians), but they posses a very convincing sign suggesting the gyros. There was an old man who smelled like pot, and they cooked an epic amount of bacon and sausage while we were there. Which was strange, considering that for the majority of the time we were there we were two of the three customers in the entire establishment. But the food was decent, and it's been a long time since I had good diner food.
Last night was Wonderland. Which was disconcerting, because on a Saturday night it was full of middle aged men. We finally found some of the regular patrons, all of whom seemed to have been relegated to the smoking patio for some reason that I couldn't fathom, other than that middle aged men are scary folk to be around.
And today it is wet and snowy. And soon it will be dark and I will go home and perhaps I shall watch the Academy Awards with my roomates.