I have a habit of waking up worrying.

Saturday I noticed the grocery store where I shop had an advertisement for Dungeness crabs, $2.49 a pound. Most crabs are about 1 and a half to 2 pounds, which means technically I should be able to purchase 5 crabs for under $20. I thought we could stop at the store after having lunch with R and her sister, but S wanted to go home, he didn't want to deal with the maddening hordes, he was grumpy and wanted a nap. So home we went with intentions of getting crabs later.

We tripped to the store about 6 that evening, set and ready to purchase dinner, and the fish market was sold out of crabs. Gone. All gone. 37 crates, empty and gone, and S ducked slowly behind the wine shelf behind us so as to elude my... frustration. Smart man. But hope comes to those who ask, and the clerk said, "Tomorrow morning."

Sunday. Ah yes, day of sleeping-in. Except I woke up worrying, and got up, and a sleepy S asked me, "What are you doing?"

"Calling the bank."

"Please don't worry about our bills today, I get paid in a week..."

"I'm not worried about our bills."

"Come back to bed."

"I want to go buy crabs, and I want to make sure I have enough to buy enough crabs."

And yes I got laughed at, and yes I bought five crabs for $18, and I spent 3 hours cracking and shelling and cleaning the giant bug-like things, with help from my cat, who with her near-silent meow reminded me on occasion to taste-test for quality.

S later made five pans of crab and mushroom and spinach with ricotta cheese stuffed manicotti. Smart man.