I paid it and nothing moved

The fine. I paid it. I sat at the counter with the four mugs lined up like a roster — blue, chipped green, the one with the faded leopard, the plain white one that does not match the set because there is no set — and I clicked pay. The screen said "transaction successful" and then "thank you." I closed the laptop and sat there for a while. I do not feel relieved. I feel like I signed a paper I have been avoiding for four years and now there is nothing between me and the next paper.

I thought the mug thing would stop bothering me once I fixed one of the other things. It did not. I rotated anyway. Blue first. I do not even like blue. I just went first.

The head stayed quiet. That is the worst kind — the kind where you think oh good, finally, and then later you realize it was loading. I cleaned the two small boxes today, the Opistophthalmus I am raising for next month's run. Took each one out, checked the substrate, looked at the molt, put it back. Quiet hands. The kind that used to hold a pipette in a lab and threw that out.

I keep thinking about the researcher in Stellenbosch who buys from me. She asked me once how I got into this and I gave her a one-line answer and changed the subject. The real answer has my dad in it and the degree and the person I left and I cannot pay her that story for the price of a Urophonius. So I keep her at Urophonius distance and I am a coward about it.

I did not drive anywhere today. The kit is still packed by the door from the last run. It looks like a person about to leave even though the person is not about to leave. I think I keep the kit packed so I have an exit ready in case the quiet resolves into something I cannot sit with.