Today is the first day of my marriage that I am worried about going home.  My wife is going to be angry.
 I didn't go to a strip club.
 I didn't get fired.
 I didn't get my good pants dirty or lose my lunchbox.
 I went to Le Bernardin for lunch.
 She won't be mad that I spent $170 on lunch for only myself.  She's going to be mad that I went without her when I've been promising to take her there for months.  
 I don't know how I'm going to make it through the night without describing the peekytoe crab cake with mustard and creme fraiche sauce or the chocolate-corn dessert with hazelnuts, but I'm going to have to try.   
  
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