I deserve to work a job that I enjoy.

Sunday dread arrives like weather, usually around four in the afternoon.

It is data rather than weakness, and worth taking about as seriously as a warning light. Not because every job must be loved — plenty of good ones are simply tolerable and pay for the rest of a life — but because a reliable four o'clock dread is telling you something quite specific about which part of the week is wrong.

Enjoyment at work is usually located narrowly: one kind of task, one kind of person, one sort of problem.

Work out which hour of your week you would keep if you could only keep one. That is the direction, even if the move takes three years.