The twelve questions, in the order they arrive
**Is my sheet dead?** arrives first, usually within a minute of somebody finding this site, and it is almost always the wrong opening question. **Do my links still work?** follows immediately and is a better one, because it can be tested row by row without an account. **Can I get my money back?** comes third, and no public page can answer it, since balances sat inside accounts this ledger has never seen. The order is stable because the first three are about the shock rather than about the sheet. Nobody asks about rebuilding until the money question has been asked and left unanswered, and nine of the twelve later questions turn out to be answerable while those three do not.
**Where did my items go?** arrives next, and it usually means two things at once: parcels already sitting in a warehouse, and orders that were paid for and never shipped. **Which platform should I move to?** comes quickly after, and **Will the new platform take my old links?** lands with it, because the answer to the second decides whether a move is a copy job or a rebuild job. These three are the first questions with answers that can be checked from outside an account, which is why they tend to arrive with visible relief. They are also the three most likely to be answered wrongly by a helpful stranger in a chat channel.
**Do I have to rebuild every row by hand?** shows up once somebody opens a column of wrapped addresses and sees what those addresses actually look like. **How long will this take?** is the practical version of the same worry. **What if a row says nothing?** is the question that separates careful readers from the rest, because a blank cell is a question about the sheet and its keeper rather than about the listing. The three arrive together in almost every message that mentions a row count. A gap in a record gets filled by the next reader with a guess unless somebody writes down what the gap means.
The last group is quieter. **Can I still ship what is already in the warehouse?** comes from people who acted early and are watching a clock that somebody else set. **Should I keep the old sheet at all?** is asked with a little embarrassment and deserves a straight answer rather than a shrug. **Who do I ask when the answer changes?** is the most useful of the twelve and it is asked last, once the person has stopped hoping for one page that settles everything. It is also the only one whose answer improves with time, because a person holding a route to updates needs no further reassurance. Nobody asks those three in any other order.
Following each one to its follow-up
The first three questions share a follow-up: what exactly can be checked from outside an account. A sheet is not dead while its identifiers can still be rebuilt, and a wrapped address can be tested one at a time without logging in anywhere. Money is the exception. The follow-up to a balance question is a records question, and this ledger has never held account data, so the honest answer routes the reader to whatever records the platform left behind. That route is unsatisfying and it is also the only one available, because a table of link statuses cannot certify a balance. What this site can say is which questions are answerable here and which are not.
The moving questions have a follow-up that surprises people: will the new platform accept an address that started life wrapped. The answer sits on the platform ledger as a recorded field per platform, which is the reason that page exists, and the readings that are still open are collected on the open questions page rather than promised in advance. A follow-up about cost usually has no verified answer at all this period. Cost is the field readers ask for most and the field this site has read least, which is a gap worth naming instead of filling with a plausible number. A figure read off a comparison page, written on another date and about another account, is not something this ledger can stand behind.
Rebuilding questions follow on to volume. Fifty rows by hand is an evening, several hundred rows by hand is a project, and the difference is the reason the legacy link resolver exists. The follow-up about time has an awkward answer: it depends on how many rows fail and how often you stop to look at one, so the only honest estimate comes from timing your own first ten rows and multiplying. The follow-up to a blank row is the one worth answering in writing, because a written answer stops the same row from being argued about twice. A blank that says not checked is a task; a blank that says nothing is a trap for whoever reads the file next.
The last group routes to the platform ledger and to the answers page. Whether an item already sitting in a warehouse can still be shipped is a question about that warehouse and its current notices, and this ledger records such notices with dates instead of summarising them. Whether to keep an old sheet is answered by the same test the site applies to its own sample: while the identifiers still rebuild, the sheet still has value, and the record of what answered on which day is the part nobody can reconstruct later. A rebuilt row carrying a date is worth more than a tidy row without one. That record is the only part of a sheet that cannot be typed again from memory.
What the twelve add up to
Nine of the twelve reduce to a single operation: rebuild an identifier and open the result. Sorting them by layer takes about five minutes and saves most of a day. Questions about the item, the seller and the warehouse cannot be answered by address work, however carefully that work is done, and the twelve arrive in an order that mixes those layers together. That mixing is why the first ten minutes feel confusing and the first afternoon feels manageable, and why so many people conclude that the sheet is the problem when the sheet is usually the clearest part of the whole situation. By that point the sheet has stopped looking like an emergency and started looking like a list of tasks.
Three of the twelve cannot be settled from outside at all: refunds, balances, and the fate of money already spent. This site publishes no figure for any of them and holds no account data, so the honest reply is to say which record to look for and which record does not exist here. A page that guessed about balances would be more popular and far less useful, and readers who need certainty on those three will not find it in a link table. Saying so early saves a long detour through pages that were never going to answer the question. The three money questions are also the three most often answered by strangers with confident guesses.
The most useful habit to take from the twelve is dating everything. A row that says the source address answered, with the day beside it, answers four of the twelve at once and turns the rest into work with a visible end. Rows without dates are what keep the same questions coming back in the same order, months apart, with the same answer available and the same uncertainty attached to it. The weekly snapshots are built on that one habit, and a single period of it is already enough to compare two rows honestly. Two rows with days attached can be compared; two rows without them can only be argued about.
Nothing in the twelve asks for a better table. They ask for a table that says what it measured, on which day, and what it left out, which is a smaller and much more durable promise than a green column. The checking method page sets that boundary, the platform ledger keeps the platform fields behind it, and the answers page holds the readings that are still open. That is the whole structure, and over time it answers more than twelve questions. Anyone who reads those three pages once will recognise most of the twelve before they are asked. That is a smaller claim than a green column of values, and it is the one that lasts.