Rabby / MetaMask / Trust done right — seed, settings, sanity
Ava closes every tab except one. Noise scatters keys; quiet keeps them.
“Today isn’t clicks,” she says. “It’s care. We build the door so it opens only when you mean it.”
You’ve crossed the ferry with coffee money and a receipt. Now you’ll install your wallet like someone who plans to still have their funds a year from now.
Ava points at your bookmarks bar—your Official page (Ava’s safe path) for the wallet you chose.
“No searching. Lanes before speed.”
You open Rabby — Official page (or MetaMask — Official page). The site looks boring. Good. Boring outlives hype.
“Fresh profile,” she says. You create a new browser profile named after the wallet (Rabby-Practice or MM-Practice). Empty of random extensions. You pin only the wallet you’re about to install.
You click Install. The extension blooms into a small window.
“Create,” Ava says.
Twelve (or twenty-four) words appear. The room shrinks around them.
“This is not a password,” she says. “It’s the house.”
You write the seed phrase on paper—twice—slowly enough to notice if your hand skips. One copy goes in a quiet place at home; one somewhere else you control. No photos. No cloud. No “temporary” notes.
You set a strong local password and flip auto-lock to 1–5 minutes. The timer will save you on the day you’re interrupted.
Rabby opens with its calm dashboard; MetaMask opens with its familiar fox. Ava toggles a few lights:
“Now prove to yourself the door is shut,” she says. You lock the wallet. You unlock it. The click pattern sticks in your fingers.
“One extension per profile,” Ava adds. “If you want both, each lives in its own space. No ghosts. No crossed wires.”
Ava turns the phone in your hand so the screen faces the desk.
“Same rule. Official page, not search.”
You install Rabby Mobile or Trust Wallet from their official pages. On first open, you choose Create new (not import): this is a separate wallet with its own seed, not a duplicate of desktop. Write that mobile seed on paper too—also twice, stored in two places you control.
You enable Face/biometric to unlock the app, then turn on auto-lock. A small haptic click confirms the lock; the phone feels like it exhaled. You pin your explorer app (Etherscan or your preferred mirror) to the home screen.
“Desktop is depth,” she reminds you. “Mobile is presence. Rabby brings its clarity to both; Trust keeps it light and broad. Either way, the mirror lives one tap away.”
On desktop, you open Address Book and add an entry:Me — Hot Wallet (your address).
You copy the address from the wallet UI—not from a chat, not from clipboard history.
You open the explorer and paste your address. A clean, empty page stares back.
“This is your mirror,” Ava says. “It tells you what you have, not what you believe.”
You star the page. The star’s click is small and satisfying.
Ava sets the small metal device—Ledger or Trezor—next to the keyboard.
“You don’t buy a vault for speed. You buy it so your future self never has to bargain with the past.”
You don’t have to set it up today. But she has you open the official page and read the first two setup steps. You learn one thing that matters: the private key never leaves the device. When the day comes, your hot wallet (Rabby/MetaMask) will “speak” to the chain while the vault signs offline.
You close the tab without rushing. Knowing where the vault will live is enough for today.
Ava doesn’t let you trade yet. She treats it like rehearsal.
“Musicians warm up before a concert. We do the same.”
You open the official page of a well-known dapp. The site loads, quiet and plain. You click Connect wallet. A prompt appears: permissions, address, chain.
“Read it,” she says. You do. Then she makes you cancel. The window closes with a soft thud.
“That,” she says, “is the feeling of restraint. You’ll need it as often as you need action.”
You switch to your explorer, refresh your address, and see nothing new. Balance unchanged. History clean. The mirror confirms stillness.
“Most people only practice doing,” Ava says. “You’ll practice not doing. That’s posture.”
Her voice lowers, like someone teaching you to breathe.
“Now we shape habits that run without willpower.”
She walks you through them in plain scenes:
Your laptop restarts and installs updates before you even open the wallet.
Your wallet profile is a quiet room—no random extensions, no shared logins.
Your bookmarks bar has four stars only: Wallet official page, Exchange sign-in, Explorer, Revoke tool. If it isn’t in the bar, it isn’t real.
You write Hot wallet max = €___ in your notebook and circle it. Anything above that will sleep in cold.
And before any signature, you whisper the same line aloud: Who gets what power, for how long? If you can’t answer, you don’t sign.
“These aren’t tasks,” Ava says. “They’re posture. They carry you when you’re tired.”
She clears the desk.
“Now we do it once, end to end.”
You install from the official page in a fresh profile.
You write the seed twice on paper, set auto-lock, lock and unlock once.
You add yourself to the Address Book as Me — Hot Wallet.
You paste your address into the explorer and star the page.
Finally, you repeat the rehearsal: connect wallet, read the prompt, cancel. The explorer shows nothing changed.
Ava slides the notebook toward you.
“Sign it,” she says.
You write one line and press the pen down hard:
“I will never type my seed into a website—even if it says ‘verify.’”
Ava closes the laptop gently, two fingers on the lid.
“Door’s in place,” she says. “Next we use it once—one honest micro-swap, one mirror, one window opened and closed on purpose.”