Researched and Written by Katy Wicks - Happy Citta Founder
"What are you going to do today then?"
"I think since it's a cloudy one, I might enjoy a bit of cleaning"
“Cleaning isn’t enjoyable. Not until you’ve finished it and you can see the results.”
“Well, that sounds a bit like running. Or gardening... Or my job!”
My dad and I, discussing our weekend plans. It was here that I stopped and recognised that a surprising amount of adult life seems to involve doing things that we say are only rewarding afterwards.
I clean the kitchen so I can admire it with a cup of tea like the proud owner of a small domestic kingdom.
I go for a run and I'm always proud at the end of it because I wasn't actually sick in a garden hedge... So I can tell people red-faced and wheezing, “I feel so much better now I've done it though.”
There are a surprising number of tasks that fall into this category and even though these conversations are between my own blood and I and we might assume this is therefore a hereditary inability to follow the expert guidance of Morcheeba to "Stop chasing shadows, just enjoy the ride", I suspect we might not be alone.
"Stop chasing shadows, just enjoy the ride" - Morcheeba
Has modern life and all of it's pressure and rushing trained many of us to live in a constant state of “after this"?
After this week.
After this project.
After the kids have grown up.
After the house is sorted.
After summer.
After Christmas.
After I lose weight.
After things calm down.
And then one day you realise you’ve spent years waiting to arrive somewhere you've been pushing down the road with the next big ambition.
We Rarely Celebrate The Middle
One of the strangest things about modern culture is how obsessed we’ve become with outcomes. Of course, this is a big buzz word in my corporate life, but without using the same language, my personal life has been in the trap of chasing outcomes for a long time too.
We celebrate graduations rather than the joy of learning, promotions rather than the smaller rewards of working, before-and-after photos rather than the slow middle where will power was developed, finished renovations rather than the months of improvements and new skills learned.
Social media reflects this almost painfully and we rarely share the middle of things anymore. Only the reveal. Nobody posts “Here I am halfway through reorganising a cupboard and regretting every life choice that brought me here”. The messy middle has become something to endure and silently seethe about while waiting for permission to feel good at the end.
Psychology actually has a lot to say about this.
Researchers have long explored something known as the “arrival fallacy”, a term popularised by psychologist Tal Ben-Shahar. It describes the belief that happiness finally arrives once we achieve the next milestone. But the problem is that humans adapt increasingly quickly, so nothing new and shiny feels very exciting for very long (Manchiraju, Chakraborty and Sadachar, 2025).
By the time I've finished my cup of tea there's a dirty cup in the clean kitchen again.
The story resets itself in the morning like a cursed Victorian Dollhouse and we live our own Groundhog Day storylines again of frustration and reaching.
Our brains are also heavily driven by anticipation and pursuit. Dopamine, which people often call the “pleasure chemical”, is deeply involved in motivation and reward prediction. In many cases, the anticipation of reward activates us as much as the reward itself. Which may explain why buying concert tickets sometimes feels as exciting as the concert, planning holidays can feel better than returning from them and thinking about going for a run is occasionally more satisfying than the run itself.
There’s also evidence that hobbies involving visible progress, such as gardening, crafting or physical exercise, can reduce stress and improve mood over time. Interestingly though, many runners (especially beginners) report that the greatest emotional benefit comes after the run rather than during it (Weinstein et al., 2024).
Which feels deeply unfair, but emotionally accurate.
“Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low" - Passenger
The words of this song played later on in the same day, as I pondered on my conversation with my dad and something in my mind connected these lyrics back to that chat.
We often understand experiences most clearly in hindsight.
We understand health once we’re ill, because we really didn't have any respect for our ability to breathe easily until that left nostril fully blocked up and the right one started making a whistling sound. We recognise that we once had energy, but only once we’re exhausted enough to compare it. We recognise our youth once we age and look back on that picture thinking "Did I look happier as a blonde or it is because I was 10 years younger?".
Maybe this is simply how human beings make sense of life... Through contrast. But how many good moments pass us by while we’re busy waiting for a better one?
Some things (might) become enjoyable slowly. Like running, as a strange example that I, frankly, don't think I'll ever resonate with. Most people don’t naturally glide through a park on their first attempt feeling spiritually awakened and athletic. Most people feel slightly... Deathy. Calves burn, lungs feel too tight, can't understand why people smile and say good morning while they engage in this crap and the inner dialogue becomes surprisingly dramatic.
But over time something changes and other meaningful work often follows this same pattern.
Project planning, problem solving, writing, caring for others, building relationships. Much of it involves repetitive effort that isn’t immediately rewarding in the moment.
But... The most meaningful things in life are never truly finished.
If all happiness exists only at the finishing line, we place ourselves in a permanent state of emotional postponement.
And modern life seems almost designed for this. Productivity culture, optimisation, “hacks”, maximise, improve, achieve, push.
Rest has become something we feel we must earn. Even hobbies have become performance-based. People track runs, optimise sleep, monetise crafts, film yoga, and turn peaceful activities into measurable achievements.
Even rest has become another task to complete correctly. Does anyone else have a mental health walk on their 'To-Do list'?!
I don’t think the answer is pretending every moment is magical. I’m not convinced anyone has ever truly enjoyed untangling charger cables. Some tasks are still boring, some weeks are exhausting and some desk jobs should never have existed.
But there is something important in learning not to disappear entirely while doing ordinary things. To occasionally notice sunlight through the kitchen window while cleaning, warm soil on your hands, music playing while you cook or even the moment of peace before a full diary day rather than a sense of dread and wishing it was already over.
Looking Up Before The Room Is Finished
Maybe my dad is right. Maybe cleaning is only truly satisfying once you step back and see what you’ve done.
But I think life becomes a little lighter if we occasionally look up before the room is finished too.
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