Okay, so I’m sitting in this little corner cafe, the one with the slightly wobbly wooden tables and the barista who remembers your usual after two visits. It’s that weird in-between hour—too late for a proper brunch crowd, too early for the after-work wine drinkers. Just me, my half-finished oat milk latte (trying to be good, you know how it is), and my laptop glaring at me. I was supposed to be planning my friend’s birthday trip, a proper spreadsheet situation with flights and Airbnbs and a color-coded itinerary. But instead… I fell down a rabbit hole. A very specific, oddly satisfying rabbit hole. It started because I was trying…