Sir Crab, your Suite awaits.

The other day I brought home a pair of hermit crabs (lovingly dubbed Hermie One and Hermie Two) from a neat little shop in the Rivercenter mall in San Antonio. I was not informed that they would be picky little bastards, or that mom would develop an unhealthy interest in meeting their every little need. So when she came home with a good $80 in "supplies for a better crabitat," I was a little put off.

"10-gallon aquarium? Thermometer, sand, 'bed-a-beast'? And what the hell do they need more shells for?"

"They like a selection."

"What's wrong with the shells they've got?"

"What's wrong with them? Oh, please. Look at this: their shells have oval openings. They like them to be circular. And do the insides seem anything like mother of pearl to you? They want mother of pearl. Not to mention that their shells are way too thin. They're practically naked in there, Katie. Naked!"

Hermie One briefly tried on one of the new shells before returning to his old residency. I'm told that he was impressed with the quality but feels hesitant to relinquish the ambiance of his current home. His people will call our people.