How often do people enjoy what they’re supposed to?

I mean, how often do you plan something that is meant to be incredibly cosy and warm and give you peace? You bring the place together, and you pour that cup of coffee, and arrange the cushions, and light the candle and - nothing. Not even a whiff of joy or satisfaction. Or worse, you feel unsettled. And yet, the other time, you really do not plan anything cosy. You wake up, slide out of bed, wrap an old robe over your pyjamas, plop at your desk and look around. You notice a stack of books, a few notepads, a lamp, a candle, a couple of photos pinned to the board… And in that very moment, you feel at home, feel as if everything falls into place perfectly, and you are in the cosiest spot on earth.