Eighteen chas.

(That would be nine cha-chas, kids).

Nine ladies dancing, eh? So, what, we've gone past birds, and into slavery? I've got an octet of lactating blondes (I assume the maids are blonde, right, true love? They pretty much have to be.) and now I've got a harem of dancing girls. Unless, maybe, it's like the actual maids and ladies, but just a coupon for their services. Like, if you go to Jiffy-Lube, you get nine mechanics a-changing your oil, but you don't own the people. That being the case... I really would have preferred a pint of milk and a handful of singles.

In other news, I'm back from Indiana. Grandparents are doing well, I know you all care immensely. And, oh man! It's Wednesday really soon! So awesome! Oh, wait, I think the last time I was about to explain why Wednesday is very important, I got distracted by a Fermilab spook, or something. I really should get on with that, since there's no logical reason to hold you in faux-suspense. Here's a hint, I already told you people what I'm going to do on the fifth, a while back. So... yeah. Figure it out. Or just wait for me to spill the beans in, like, a day, because I'm seriously excited.