Dancing on the Threshold of Hell

Life in #303 has been a whole lot less than desirable. I won't go into details because I don't want to. So you'll have to take my word for it. Or maybe you'll understand when you see me in my car with a suitcase in the back with everything I may need in the next week or so. Or maybe you'll get a hint of what I'm going through when you see me huddled on the couch of #69 trying to catch a bit of sleep. Today Karen asked me where it was that I was living now and I told her. On the threshold of Hell.

But tonight, in honor of our Ann-Marie's birthday, I danced here. Well I didn't dance here. Because I don't dance. But I stood around as I watched other people dance here. Right on the threshold of Hell.