Homer: Look, Marge... Honey... Baby... Doll...
Marge: [turning her back, folding her arms] Homer, I don't even want to
look at you right now.
Homer: What are you saying, honey? [Marge points him outside] But
where will I sleep?
Marge: [shaking angrily] My suggestion is you sleep in the filth you
Homer: Will a motel be okay? [Marge slams the front door in his face]
-- Shall I take that as a yes? "Homer's Night Out"