In college we had a few different and hilarious (to us) voice mail messages. For a while, our voice mail said:
You have reached 1-900-909-WORM.
If you'd like to talk to a worm, press 1.
To listen to worms talk, press 2.
This is when I was a hippie granola botany major and learning all about vermiculture. We planned to open a microbrewery, and we'd have a bunch of benches with places for people to sit, and the benches would be worm bins where we composted all the hops and barley. Our first beer was going to be called The Great Wide Chasm Worm Stout. Ah, Tony's Tavern, so many plans were hatched there. Well, I gave all those plans up for an exciting career in administering databases, but I did just purchase a big bucket of worms from the Colorado Worm Man.
We had a worm bin for the first year after college, and it was great. Worms ate all our leftovers. But then we moved into a really small place, and then a slightly bigger place, and then a much bigger place, and as of yesterday, I can cross "start worm composting again" off my list of things I have been meaning to do for the last 12 years.
Love to cross stuff off that list.