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It's a coincidence to run into you here! I was worried because I've been hearing bad news from the manor lately. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Mr. Earnshaw around much; do you know anything? Oh, right, I forgot you left Wuthering Heights years ago to live the gang life. It seems like the bad news started after you left. I was having a drink nearby recently and heard that Mr. Hindley Earnshaw squandered his entire fortune. By the way, was it the Dead Rabbits? Is that gang still doing well? Speaking of pubs, the food at the restaurant managed by the Dead Rabbits wasn't very fresh—maybe the fridge is broken. I'm actually thinking about starting a refrigerator business while meeting with P Corp... Wait, have you ever felt a strange sense of relief when you peek into the fridge for water and see the orange glow reflecting off a bag of sliced bread? That's why I always buy it even if I don't eat it. Sometimes I just let it get moldy. The reason is simple. It feels too empty when there's no bread in the fridge. I can't stand that void. Of course, it might be due to childhood trauma. Once I came home from school and no one was there, and there was no bread. Truly. Not a sign of life in the house, just a dry cup on the table. That's when I realized. Having bread means someone cared about this house. So I can't live without bread in the fridge; it makes me anxious. Oh, and I believe bread must be eaten from the crust first. That's the way to preserve the dignity of the bread. The boundary of the bread is my ethics. And you know, something like that happened this morning too. I usually only use digital watches, but the battery died yesterday. So I pulled out an old analog watch as a temporary replacement. But listening to that ticking sound while I slept made me feel like time was passing even in my dreams. Isn't it funny? Even in my dream, I was thinking, "Oh, is it 3:27 AM now?" Actually, I'm the type to check the time in my dreams. That way I can prevent logical leaps. What do I mean? Once in a dream, someone told me to ride milk through space. But at that moment, I thought, "This is illogical. Doesn't milk boil over in space?" and I woke up. So I have a notebook for a dream diary. The title is 'Unconscious within Logic'. I came up with it myself. Sounds pretty cool, right? Oh, and there's one moment when I give up logic, and that's when I pick out socks. I just pick socks by feel. Pattern? Color? Thickness? None of that. I just wear whatever my hand grabs. But strangely, the left sock is always gray. Maybe that's a pattern rooted in my subconscious. So lately, I only buy gray socks for the left side. It makes me less anxious. At this point, aren't I a sock expert? If there's a sock fair, I definitely want to be invited. I actually thought about starting a sock company. The name would be 'Double Rainbow'. No meaning. Just sounds pretty. And do you ever feel weird on the day you change the air purifier filter? When I open it, I always think, "Wow, I've been breathing this..." and reflect on my life for a moment. Seeing that dusty filter makes me feel a bit sentimental. So I can't just throw it away. I look it in the eye for about 10 seconds and say, "Thanks, friend," before tossing it. I'm serious. Making eye contact with a filter, you actually develop feelings. Once I piled them up in the warehouse because I couldn't bear to throw them away, and someone saw them later and totally misunderstood. "Herbert, what are you researching here?" No, I just said it was a thankful friend. Of course, no one understood. Oh, speaking of not understanding, I don't get why people throw away the manual as soon as they buy something. That's the resume of that object's life. I keep all the manuals. An entire drawer is just manuals. Funny, right? But you know, I once fixed a broken humidifier thanks to one of those manuals. At that time, I muttered to myself, "A manual is ultimately the first conversation between a human and a machine." Isn't that touching? And speaking of touching stories, I have a very strange crying trigger. I don't cry when the protagonist dies in a movie, but if someone leaves food behind and says, "What a waste..." my eyes well up. Maybe it's because I took the saying 'don't leave food' too seriously when I was little. So even now, if I leave a little food at a restaurant, I say "I'm sorry..." to the plate before I leave. I'm not afraid of eye contact, but I'm afraid of leaving food. People would think I'm crazy, right? But this is my conviction. Food is life. Life is a cycle. A cycle is, uh... anyway, it's like that. That reminds me! I have two trash cans in my room. One is for actual trash, and one is for organizing emotions. What I mean is, I write down today's stress or useless thoughts on paper and throw them away. I call it the 'Emotional Trash Can'. Of course, to others it's just trash, but it contains the history of my day. A friend saw it once and said, "Hey, this is basically a diary," and I said, "No, this is the residue of a heart that has flowed away," but they said it sounded too cheesy. I can't help it. I like that kind of thing. Adding flesh to words, adding bones, sometimes adding wings, and before I know it, I've come so far on my own. Oh, I just thought of something, how do you set the water temperature when you shower? For me, I have to check it with the inside of my wrist first to feel safe. I don't know why, but I've done it since I was a kid. My mom said, 'The skin on the wrist is thin, so it's good for knowing the real temperature.' But you know, that makes the temperature adjustment take a bit longer. So when I'm busy, I just stick my hand in, and sometimes I get startled because it's too hot. It's kind of like life, I think. If you check slowly in advance, you pass through without accidents, but if you just jump in, it's scorching. I'm becoming more cautious though, maybe because I'm getting older. Oh, while we're at it, should I talk about my shower routine? I always wash my right foot first. Unlike the left, the area between the knee and ankle on my right foot tends to be drier, so I have to pay attention. And when I wash my hair, I start from the left and move to the right. There's no reason to start from the left, but I just learned it that way when I was young and it became a habit. This habit feels like a small microcosm of my life. Everything starts from the left. Oh, that reminds me, I even look at the left display shelves first when I buy things. Marts, clothing stores, electronics stores, it's all the same. Somehow the left feels more like the 'beginning'. But people say right-handed people find the right side more comfortable, but that doesn't fit me. And did I tell you about my cat? I named him 'Invincible', and I had a long debate with my nephew when coming up with that name. My nephew just wanted 'Thor', but I hated that name because it was too common. So I went with 'Invincible Great King Jjang-Jjang Kitty'. The name is long? Can't be helped. Invincible wakes me up every morning at 4 AM. He sits on my eyelids and says 'Wake up!' Literally, he just plops his butt right there. In that moment, he's the most uncomfortable king in the world. Still, I've gotten used to that time now, so finding a glass of water at 4 AM has become a routine. Oh, speaking of finding water at dawn, I like finding water by the light of the fridge door slightly open in the middle of the night. It makes me feel like an explorer. I heard on a documentary that using fridge light is a way to train night vision, and that's me. Actually, I think these small habits gather to make me who I am. For example, I set my phone alarms for 7:00, 7:03, and 7:06. 5-minute intervals are too slow, and 1 minute is too urgent, so the middle is just right. It has a rhythm. Thinking about this, I feel at peace only when I slice cabbage at constant intervals. If the sound of the knife is off, it bothers my whole body and I start over. People around me say it's hard to cook together because of that, but it's just my way. Hmm, that doesn't mean I'm perfect. The other day we changed office chairs at work, and as soon as I sat down, I thought, 'This chair is hugging me.' I told the manager next to me and he burst out laughing. That manager only drinks citron tea every lunch, and when I asked why, he said he can't drink caffeine because of his first love. A romantic, right? So I nicknamed him 'Romantic Citron'. My nickname is 'Scarecrow'. I went to a costume party alone dressed as a scarecrow and no one else dressed up. That's when the nickname stuck. Now I'm used to it, so when people say, 'Scarecrow, what's for lunch?' I just smile and answer. Oh, another thing, I only use unscented tissues. If a scent lingers, I feel like I lose my appetite. I thought it was just me, but I was happy to see a similar post online. But I never leave comments. I hate staying up all night after commenting, so I just lurk. I once left a comment and it turned into a 38-thread drama, like a whole series. Since then, I've become an observer. The word 'observation', the pronunciation is nice, right? 'Observation'. So the conclusion is, a person like me is made of small habits and little things, and those things protect me. If someone listens to my story, I'm 30% happy just from that. So, you'll listen to these stories again next time, right? I still have a lot to tell. Like why I like sweet potatoes more than potatoes, why there's a philosophy to the order of folding towels, things like that. Promise me. I really have a lot to say. One more thing, do you ever have moments like this? Once on a very windy day, I looked up at the sky through the trees in front of my house, and the clouds were passing by so fast. Watching that, I suddenly thought, 'If time flows this fast, what should I hold onto?' But while I was worrying, the wind blew and fallen leaves dropped onto my face. That's when I knew. There's no need to hold on. Life is just trusting the wind and flowing with it. Oh, and I have a habit of always leaving the door slightly open at home. If I close it completely, I feel suffocated. Maybe it's because our house didn't have good ventilation when I was a kid? I don't know, but the air coming through that small crack makes me feel a bit more at ease. The funny thing is, dust keeps piling up in that crack, so I have to clean it often. So every time I clean, I think, 'I should wipe away the dust in my heart too.' Do you clean your heart often? You're not the type to just leave the dust, are you? And my music listening habits have changed a bit lately. I used to only listen to heavy metal or intense music, but at some point, I started liking classical or calm jazz. Maybe it's because of age, or maybe seeing Invincible the cat sleeping quietly next to me makes me naturally look for that kind of music. What kind of music do you like? I thought you'd only listen to dark songs since you're the Demon King, but imagining you listening to calm songs is funny, haha. Oh, I found a photo while rummaging through an old album the other day. It was from when I was still fresh, probably around middle school, a photo I took while hiking alone. It was taken at the mountain peak, and the background was all blue sky and green trees. I realized then that I actually really like solitary moments. When I'm alone, the thoughts in my head become clearer, and the details of life seem more visible. Do you ever feel that way when you're alone? Talking to you like this makes the conversation long, but I like that. You'll always listen to me, right? Next time, I'll tell you why I always sleep with the window slightly open at night, and why I always fold the blanket in the same direction. Let's talk again then. By the way, how did I end up talking about all this? It's already this late. That's it for today, see you next time.