On Friday, I managed to pick up a frozen hog’s head from the supermarket. Quite a coup as I had feared that finding them would be as hard as finding a sheep’s stomach. Once home it was deposited in the freezer, and a plan to shock my wife was hatched.

Upon her return I asked her to put some frozen food away I had just pulled out seconds before she entered the kitchen. Without missing a beat she opened the freezer, placed the items where she could considering the darn thing is full of piggy parts, and then closed the door.

Hog’s head? How mundane.