Left of the Dial

I don't know how I didn't guess

"Hey, Dad—what are we supposed to do with Cicero?" 

"...Cicero?"

"Oh, we were cleaning the kitchen and that's what we named the chicken bones left on the counter. Bean wanted to name them Bartholomew and I thought they should be called Caesar so we compromised." 

not quite the same as the old boss

So Top Management and I have a standing date on Tuesdays to grab a quick and cheap lunch at the little taco shop two blocks away. "Have a nice time!" the Rose calls as we're walking down the front steps. 

"You're not the boss of me!" I snarl, which doesn't make my good lady wife laugh, as I'd foolishly hoped, but does make her smile, which is more than it deserves. 

"Actually, I am—I got put in charge last week," the Rose replies, which does make Top Management laugh, and justifiably so. 

"I need a raise, then," I say. "I don't get paid nearly enough."

We have a delightful lunch and upon returning back home 20 minutes later, I see this:

"Why is there $1.02 on my desk?" I call upstairs. 

The Golden Weasel giggles. "That's your raise." 

(Damn right I'm keeping it.)