I unearthed an email thread from 2021, replied like a time traveller, and now I’m waiting for a startled ping from someone who thought I’d vanished. The subject line still says ‘Quick question,’ the attachment still claims to be ‘final_final,’ and my apology reads like a museum label. If they answer, I’ll pretend the wormhole was planned. If they don’t, the artefact returns to storage.
Productivity
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Inbox Archaeology
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Stair Workout Truce
Five minutes up and down the stairs felt like a peace talk between legs and lungs; both complained, neither won, and I ended up surprisingly alive. I set a timer, gripped the handrail, and counted steps like a stubborn metronome. Thuds, breath, thuds. No glory, just a bit of heat in the calves and less fog in the head. A truce has been declared until tomorrow, with terms under review.