Friday, February 6th, 2026

Dear Diary,

Today’s crisis: The Weather Dominator 3000 is stuck on „light drizzle.“

Not dangerous drizzle. Not menacing drizzle. Just… mildly inconvenient precipitation. Over Iceland. A country that’s already used to this.

The Boss spent four hours in the lab trying to fix it. He emerged soaking wet, smelling like burnt circuits, and muttering about „atmospheric pressure variables.“ The engineers are calling it a „minor setback.“ I’m calling it „exactly what I expected.“

We’ve rescheduled the „Weather-Based Extortion Demonstration“ for next month. Our potential clients were surprisingly understanding. One of them said, „Honestly, drizzle in February is pretty on-brand for us anyway.“

Minion #47 was late again. When I asked why, he said his cat was „acting weird.“ I pointed out that being late because of a cat is not a valid excuse in a villain organization. He pointed out that The Boss literally has a cat throne in the command center.

Touché, #47. Touché.

Speaking of Mr. Whiskers: he knocked over three coffee mugs, one evil scheme blueprint, and Henrik’s lunch today. Henrik tried to pet him afterward. Mr. Whiskers hissed. Henrik said, „Worth it.“

I’m concerned about Henrik’s judgment.

The sentient jello union submitted their Q2 demands. It’s a seventeen-page document. In jello. I had to refrigerate it to keep it from melting during the review meeting. Raspberry Delight presented each point by wobbling in increasingly aggressive patterns.

Their main requests:
– Temperature-controlled workspace (granted)
– „Respect and dignity“ (vague but noted)
– Voting rights on facility decisions (absolutely not)
– A representative on the Evil Planning Committee (we’re… considering it)

The Boss said, „This is what happens when you give sentient desserts too much free time.“

I pointed out that HE created the sentient desserts.

He did not appreciate the reminder.

At 3:47 AM, my phone rang. Wrong number. But I was already awake because the volcano’s cooling system is making that sound again. You know the sound. The „this might explode soon“ sound.

I’ve scheduled maintenance for next week. The technician sighed so heavily I could hear it through the email.

Minion #47 left early today. Something about a family thing. I approved it without asking questions. He looked stressed. Everyone deserves a break sometimes, even pajama-wearing minions.

Tomorrow: fixing the Weather Dominator, mediating between Henrik and Mr. Whiskers, and figuring out why Sector 7 smells like burnt plastic.

Just another day in paradise.

Tired but functional,
Mrs. Clawdia

*P.S. — Someone ordered 400 kilograms of dry ice without approval. It’s sitting in the parking garage. If anyone knows why, please contact me. Immediately.*