Bruce and I went to Ikea yesterday, and got a bunch of new shelves to completely change the space where Peanut's cage used to be. The cage itself is waiting to be tucked into a closet somewhere — most of his toys and play gyms should fit inside it. I think we've found most of the snacks we'd hidden everywhere, and there are only a few other bits and pieces to be tucked away. I think it helps to change the space; otherwise the memories would just be too hard to deal with.

Don't worry: the Peanut Clock that Bruce's mom made is prominently displayed on the new shelves. And despite retiring the Peanut Song, it still lives in my memory and annoys the heck out of me by periodically getting stuck in my head. And of course, Peanut is in the freezer.

But it's useful to be setting new routines, I think.

Bruce says the evenings are the hardest, since he had perfected The Art Of Eating Dinner With A Small Bird Sleeping In His Right Hand, and of course because he was the primary giver of Warm Toasties, being the Big Sweaty Hand, and all. I say the mornings are hardest, because although I still get breakfast ready for the Finsters, there are so many things I don't do for Peanut anymore. No seedballs for breakfast, no wheat berries for breakfast, no hidden oat groats or sunflower seeds to find, no chance to look for corn or soaked seed snacks on the counter....

Peanut's breakfast was a lengthy and multi-faceted event, filled with flights to the Finsterium, my head, and back home again.

Really, I'll have a lot more time on my hands, once I finish moping about Peanut.