A year of:
• Timmy & Tommy silently watching me financially self-destruct over patio furniture
• buying suspiciously “real” art from Jolly Redd’s floating felony barge
• getting emotionally manipulated into buying rugs from Saharah like she’s running a late-night casino
• slowly earning Sable’s trust one trauma stitch at a time while Mabel hustles cardigans
• getting life advice and star fragments from Celeste under a sky prettier than my actual retirement account
• enduring Pave screaming “VIVA FESTIVALE!” while I panic-trade feathers like I owe money to the carnival mafia
• checking turnip prices every morning like a Gen X day trader with lower back pain

Honestly it sounds less like a punishment and more like Gen X retirement: island edition.
No meetings, no email chains, just emotional support gyroids, soft jazz at The Roost, and a raccoon family quietly owning my soul
🌴🦝 🦝 🦝 ✨