I collect vintage lunch boxes, cataloging every dent, latch, and faded superhero as evidence of lost cafeteria civilizations. Evenings are reserved for methodically painting bottle caps—miniature canvases where I test color theory one millimeter at a time. On weekends, I run a strictly regulated marble-racing league in the basement: timed heats, calibrated tracks, and a ledger of winners dating back four fiscal quarters. Routine, after all, is the backbone of any worthwhile hobby.
