It keeps coming with furious certainty—this idea that we're moving. Today I rehomed our hermit crabs and all their paraphenalia. It was a lot of stuff, and I don't think their new owner will have a clue what to do with it: her crabs were in a kritter keeper without even a lid and in painted shells. Horrors.
It's not the crabs I will miss, I don't think. They were interesting enough, and I learned heaps about them, but I never really made an emotional connection with them. But there was always something to DO. A cage to clean, food to create, a bubbler pool to invent, something to learn, someone to talk to. It's one more step toward becoming a hermit myself, I suppose, to cut myself off from that part of my world.
I feel a little at loose ends.