As selenite dust settles on your morning coffee, a forgotten melody from childhood echoes through the vent, urging you to scrub the third drawer of your desk with a damp cloth before dusk. The cacophonous hum of the refrigerator will synchronize with your heartbeat at precisely 3:47 PM, signaling the moment to confront the wilted basil plant on your windowsill. Tonight, avoid staring at the moon through a cracked lens, lest you inhale the ghostly scent of iron filings.