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a new year’s lesson about marriage

New Year’s Morning. Caleb and I are walking back to our hotel from Patisserie Claude, in the West Village.  I am tired, not from too much champagne but from being awakened by the rantings of a very drunk, very angry woman in the hotel room next to ours.  Apparently her boyfriend is Satan and now we and everyone else on our floor know it. Anyway.  We’re on the corner of …