The hermit crab died sometime over the past two days. In the bath tonight, I received a text from my husband: he had a "dead crab situation, take your time". He texted later that he'd now be resigned to eating raspberries alone; I had already totally forgotten that he could be in any way referring to the hermit crab being his berry-eating pal. He's been drilling and soldering for the last thirty minutes. I'm betting the kids and I will wake up to the metallic click of roboclaws. Hermit Munster.