I create my own space for satisfaction

Satisfaction needs an edge to sit on. A shift that ends, a row finished, a lawn where the last strip meets the fence — the pleasure is in the boundary as much as the work, which is why a job with no closing time can be done well for years and never once feel done.

Most of that boundary has to be built by hand now. Nobody puts the shutters down for you. It might mean the last email at six, or a walk that marks the end of a day, or one evening a week that isn't available to anybody. Small architecture, but the satisfaction has to stand on something.