Your calendar guards your time and ignores what it costs you. Vasilisa reads the week the other way round — who lifts you, who drains you, when you actually have it in you — and arranges the days to protect the part that runs out first.
Learns who energizes you and who wears you down — from how meetings and threads actually go, not from titles. The same person can be a lift in their element and a drain outside it, and she knows the difference.
Puts the draining combinations into the hours you're strongest, groups the scattered ones so you stop context-switching, and keeps quiet buffers where you'd otherwise run on fumes.
Sees a day that's about to cost more than you've got and says so — "this combination has drained you before" — while there's still time to move something.
In the old tale, Vasilisa is sent to do the impossible — sort the grain from the ash, keep the fire, survive a night at Baba Yaga's — with nothing but a little doll her dying mother left her. Each evening she feeds the doll a few crumbs, and while she sleeps it quietly does the work that would have broken her. She wakes with the hard part already done.
Four names, one household. Kedr shows up in the room, Domovoi keeps what's true, Kot Bajun turns it into something worth sitting through — and Vasilisa makes sure there's still someone left at the end of the week to do any of it.
