I can almost touch the tension as everyone gets ready for school and work this morning. All I want to do is escape from having to save everyone but myself, as the arguments spew from Stella and the kids, whizzing by me like bullets on the beaches of Normandy. The argument enemy is powerful. I know if I can just get the hell out of the deep water, to the car, I’d liberate myself from the onslaught of the enemy that is pretty much fighting with itself at this point. “Run, Dusty, you idiot,” I think to myself as I round the corner to the front door, and slip on a smear of yogurt someone had spilled.