Okay, so I’m sitting in this little corner cafe, the one with the slightly too-loud indie folk playlist and the barista who always remembers I take oat milk. It’s one of those lazy Sunday afternoons where the light is just perfect—golden and soft, filtering through the big window beside me. I’m supposed to be planning my content calendar for the next month, but instead, I’m people-watching and scribbling nonsense in my notebook. Classic. My laptop is open, of course. It’s basically an extension of my arm at this point. And right there, among the twenty-odd tabs I have open (don’t judge), is my trusty orientdig spreadsheet. It’s not glamorous. It’s…