Where were you?

I got home from Gertrude feeling like a washed up piece of styrofoam on the scummy shore of a lake. And my closest earthly companion, whom I shall call Petrus, looked me over and said, "You look like crap. What's up with that?"

"I spent the night at Gertrude's house. Leave me alone. I need a shower,"

"Wait--where were you?"

"At Gertrude's. Over on 4th Avenue."

"Nobody lives there anymore. Did you sleep in an abandoned house or something?"

"NO! Gertrude's house is there." I watched him he looked perplexed, and worried about me. He wasn't kidding.

"I don't get it."