Try eating something crunchy, like a carrot.

I sat down at my desk, genuinely amped to write and dive straight into the day’s work.

And then I hit a wall. A total blank screen. What do I even write about today? Where do I start?

I looked over at my husband and asked the first thing that came to mind: “What is the very first word that pops into your head right now?”

Without missing a single beat, his answer was instantaneous: “Snacks.”

They always say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But I’ve got news for anyone plotting to steal my husband away with a home-cooked meal—it’s not going to work out so well for you.

The man loves good food, and he thrives on snacks. Especially the midnight snacks. Those late-night kitchen raids are absolute murder on my sleep schedule sometimes. Though, to be fair, even his snack obsession depends entirely on his mood. Some days he’s on a mission, and other days he’s completely uninterested.

The real problem was that the moment he uttered the word, the seed was planted. Suddenly, I was the one craving a snack.

For the past few days, I’ve had this persistent, non-negotiable craving for potato chips. Crisps. Something salty, crunchy, and terribly unhelpful for productivity.

Naturally, I turned to the internet. Google informed me that craving salty snacks is a sign of low energy, boredom, stress, or severe dehydration.

So, I conducted a quick personal system check on my own body. I slept like a log, I ate a proper breakfast, I’m fully hydrated, and I am neither bored nor stressed. Google was completely wrong. I don’t have a deep psychological or physiological deficiency.

I just want salty chips. End of story.

It reminded me of a story I read recently about a man taking ChatGPT to court because he almost died after following its questionable medical advice.

We’ve all been there. Three clicks on Google for a minor headache, and suddenly you’re mentally arranging your own funeral and writing out your last will and testament. The exact same logic applies when asking a computer program to diagnose your appetite.

Google’s grand alternative suggestion for my salty crisp craving was simple: “Try eating something crunchy, like a carrot.”

I actually tried it. I ate the carrot.

Did it work? Absolutely not.

Why? Because a carrot is an orange vegetable from the earth, and a potato chip is a salty masterpiece. They are not the same. It is completely logical. A carrot will never, ever be a crisp.

So I’m revising the old life advice.

When your Google search fails to solve your problems, find a snack. When your husband is grumpy, find a snack.

And when it’s midnight and he wanders into the dark room whispering, “Are you hungry?”—understand that he isn’t actually asking a question. That is a polite notification stating that both of you are about to eat snacks in the dark.

Life is far too short to pretend a carrot stick is going to satisfy a potato chip mood.

Go and find the snacks. You only live once.