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Worked late. Got home. Superwife changed into Supernurse. Doing my manly hunter/gatherer thing, I went to Wendys to grab something for everybody to eat. Ate. Supernurse went to work. I fell asleep. Not much to say, some days are like that.

Oh all right. When I get home the guinea pigs start to whistle. Even before I open the door. They apparently hear my footsteps on the porch. They whistle because they want to be fed. Five whistling guinea pigs, the only thing missing are the impatient cries of "garcon!" Because they are French Guinea pigs.

So anyway. Before I come into the house now I have to grab a couple handfuls of weeds to feed them. Being the insolent diners they are, they have no appreciation for the effort, they expect it. Little do they know the contempt I have for them, they get the service I give and nothing more. They prefer dandelions, sometimes they get them, sometimes they only get plaintains. They are pigs. They are swine. It's like having five more kids, only they're penned up, and they can't hit me up for money.

That was hardly worth it, but the wife's at work and the kids need tending to.
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