It was Saturday night in Littleton, and the wife and I were arguing. She was upset because she couldn't find her favorite pair of black strappy heels, so she'd fallen back on the black Doc Martens that dated from her days as a Philly punk-rock girl, and one of our cats had gotten into the trash and thrown up on the only jacket I own. Plus, ignoring her advice, I'd refused to put on a tie and had made no... More >>>