Sure, Bitcoin’s price might be doing its best impression of a rollercoaster designed by Salvador Dalí, but I’m still dollar-cost averaging with the bashful hope of a squirrel stashing acorns for a golden future. Every dip feels like the universe putting BTC on sale—who am I to argue with cosmic discounts? I’ll keep stacking sats, grinning sheepishly, and trusting that long-term optimism outshines even the shiniest bar of gold (no offense, bullion buffs).