Cassandra didn't set out to become the spreadsheet person. It happened sideways. Handed a mess of contract-renewal dates at work and told to keep an eye on them, she got annoyed enough to rebuild the whole thing in a sheet, and her manager forwarded it around like she'd invented fire. She hadn't. She'd just fixed it.
The household stuff came later. Three kids under five means money moves in a hundred small directions, so she built a budget, then a diaper tracker half as a joke that turned out useful. She keeps birthdays on paper and knows that's ironic. She teaches in focused chunks with real breaks, and she'll tell you plainly when she doesn't know something.