I know this sounds so stupid, like it's not even a real problem, but my doctor put me on this low-sodium thing for my heart, right? And I find myself out in the garage, pretending to reorganize my old woodworking tools, just so I can sneak a handful of those salty potato chips. My wife would KILL me if she knew, but sometimes, after a whole day of bland food, that crunch and that salt... it's like a secret rebellion, a little act of defiance before I go back inside and pretend everything is fine. I'm almost 60, for crying out loud, acting like a teenager hiding candy. It just feels... silly, you know? But also, a little bit like freedom.