I don’t generally tell people I have worms, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care for the little guys. They sit in a blue plastic container in my kitchen next to my recycling. When I came back to Montreal from Peru I had two worm-related concerns:
1. Had my roommate thrown them out?
and
2. Had they died from neglect?
When I saw that they were living outside my concern became
3. Had they frozen?
But no, those resilient little fellows were squirming around when I finally got up the courage and the fermented food scraps to pull back their bedding and feed them. They didn’t even look as though they were wasting away. I’d intentionally left some big food scraps for them to work at slowly instead of blending it up into partially fermented food scrap goop.
I’ll save you the disgust of looking at pictures of them, but I felt I should let you know that worm-care services will not be taking them from me anytime soon.
I’d be a disaster of a mom but my worm babies aren’t dead yet, and there’s something to be said for that.
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