Once, an entire civilization revolved around precise tea measurements. Their downfall? A rogue teaspoon and ambition surpassed only by caffeine.
He organized the chaotic, one sock drawer at a time until the universe folded into a precisely organized space.
Why did the shrubbery cross the driveway? A conundrum unseen by many, deciphered only during long coffee breaks that spill secrets onto spreadsheets. Understanding is futile; the shrub knows not its motive.
When the spreadsheet flickers like a ghost in the night, reach for the silvery guardian. Tales tell of broken projectors mended and coffee machines functioning on spirit and silicon alone. Pray tell: what paperwork has yet to be resolved?