I am in alignment with my purpose.

Purpose leaves fingerprints on a calendar. It is the Sunday afternoon that disappeared into fixing a broken chair, and you would have sworn it was forty minutes.

The hours that refuse to behave like hours are the evidence, and they are often faintly embarrassing — not noble, not marketable, just the thing you keep drifting back towards. Nobody is paying for it, which is what makes it reliable data. What quietly took four hours off you last month without asking permission?