My coffee order was wrong this morning.

And I didn't just ask for it to be remade. I gave the barista a slow, dramatic stare, as if this minor inconvenience was the inciting incident for my entire origin story.

I cleaned out my purse today, and it wasn't just old receipts and lipstick.

It was a forensic deep dive into every single thought I’ve had in the last three months that I didn’t write down anywhere else, plus a rogue French fry.

I was at the coffee shop this morning, and the barista asked for my name.

I paused, looked directly into their eyes, and whispered, 'Just... *the girl*.' Then I winked, like I was in a trailer for my own coming-of-age indie film.

My main character energy is so potent, that when my Wi-Fi went out this morning...

...I didn't just troubleshoot it. I paced dramatically, stared out the window with a pensive expression, and waited for the inspiring background music to kick in so I could have my 'aha!' moment.