The day I bought my tortoise should be a holiday.

That Thursday night was Tortoise Day Eve for me.

The excitement and anticipation had rendered my eyes blinkless. My proneness to napping and my natural ability to fall asleep within 20 seconds was superceded by a neuro-electric charge that had every cell in my body on tiptoes; or tip-endoplasmic reticulae.

I spent all of my evening hours on the internet, Googling and Binging anything related to Russian tortoises, including the band called Tortoise. I needed to know what sort of habitat to set up for my very own (and very first) reptile.

My plan was to organize the tortoise enclosure in the morning of Friday, and then pick up my tortoise after lunch.

The night spent in the blue-white glow of the computer was a crash course in tortoise care – specifically the Russian.

The diet, the lighting – the complexities of needed UVA and UVB rays – the substrate (which is the ‘flooring’ material for what amounts to a terrarium), all had to be studied. I read until my eyes were stinging and my head was hurting. It was 5 a.m.

I tried to let myself fall asleep, but I kept running an ever-changing, ever-lengthening check list through my mind. What if I can’t find coconut coir? What is coir, anyway? What am I going to use as an indoor enclosure? Where am I going to put it in the house? Can a tortoise eat carrots? What is UVA, and do I have any in the broom closet?

Of course, above and beyond the logistical and zoological details, there was the childlike enthusiasm that is summoned up by the thought of taking care of an innocent animal and doing right by him or her.

No sleep. No sleep. Breakfast. Stores are opening. It was Tortoise Morning.