I trust my intuition

Intuition looks like magic and is mostly filing. A nurse who has worked nights for twenty years will say a patient does not look right an hour before the numbers agree, and she will not be able to tell you which detail did it. The colour, the breathing, the way a hand lay on the blanket. All of it, compressed, arriving as a feeling because there was no time to arrive as an argument.

You have that in whatever you have done for a long time. Conversations. Kitchens. The mood of one particular child.

It is earned rather than assumed. It goes exactly as far as your hours go and no further, which is worth knowing in both directions.