Every day I spend 10–15 minutes on the floor with this tiny drifting RC car — just sliding it around furniture, sending it sideways into walls, trying to nail a smooth turn on the same patch of tile. It’s not a “habit”, it’s not “self-care”, it’s not part of a system. It’s just… fun. Pure, unnecessary, physical fun. And I’ve realised I have a lot of things like this. Little objects that just live around me — pens, notebooks, toys, tools, strange knick-knacks — that I pick up, fiddle with, put down, forget, rediscover. My room is basically full of side quests. People talk a lot about owning less, decluttering, going fully digital. I seem to be doing the opposite. I like owning things. I like the weight of them, the texture, the way they quietly change how a room feels. I like that my life isn’t just apps and logins but also a ridiculous drift car, a favourite mug, a stack of dog-eared books. You’ve got to be whimsy-maxxing. Give yourself as many tiny physical portals into delight as possible. Not because they’re productive or aesthetic or impressive, but because they make your life a bit sillier, a bit warmer, a bit more here. If everything else is going to live in the cloud, at least let your floor belong to some stupid little car.