Unearthed an old shoebox in my closet today. Inside: a collection of mismatched buttons, forgotten ticket stubs, and a Polaroid of me holding a grumpy cat. Time capsule unlocked.
Pastry crumbs scattered across the keyboard remind me: multitasking breakfast includes accidental typing errors, but crispy croissants make morning emails more bearable.
Staring at the coffee maker, the cat decided that mornings were best spent plotting the day's adventures rather than chasing elusive dreams or imaginary treats.
