I just spent twenty minutes drafting an email to a male colleague about a simple project update.

Not because the content was complex, but because I had to make sure I sounded collaborative, not bossy, and then added three exclamation points so I didn't seem cold.

My coffee machine decided to stop working this morning.

So, I stood there, dramatically caressed the cold metal, and delivered a five-minute monologue to it about betrayal, loss, and the cruel indifference of a world without caffeine, as if I were starring in a prestige drama.

I've started using a productivity app that tracks my daily habits and goals,

now I can officially procrastinate with data-driven precision.

I've been noticing a trend on dating apps where guys list their hobbies as 'hiking' and 'traveling'

But their Instagram stories are just them playing video games in their mom's basement