I feel sort of like this gate-post snail:
|"Is it safe to come out yet?"|
The crab, in a fit of landscaping enthusiasm, hammered the snail point down into the sand like a gate-post in the crab's front yard. A poor choice of construction materials: once work had stopped for the day, the gatepost woke up, peered around, then stretched and twisted until he could grab the shell next to him, uprooted himself, and slid away.