Years ago, during the hot months in the desert, I adopted a short house dress style that I change into when I come home from work. I have probably about six that I rotate, but the original is old. It's old enough that a picture of my son and me when he was a baby included that dress. He's about to turn 11. I still wear that dress.

It is not particularly fashionable. I'm not even sure it qualifies as vintage, but it is soft, it fits, and when I come home and put it on, it signals that whatever version of myself was required out in the world has clocked out for the day. It should be easier to recognize moments like that as enough. Instead, we clock into entertainment that is remarkably good at convincing us that they're not.

Recently, my husband and I were talking about how much TikTok has changed. It seems like every third video is trying to sell us something, and that's before accounting for the people whose actual job is selling us something while pretending they're telling us about their morning routine.

There's always a better skin-care routine, a nicer kitchen, a more organized pantry, a vacation we haven't taken, a body we haven't achieved. Even minimalism became something we could shop for. Apparently, I can purchase several attractive millennial gray containers to help me own fewer things.

But the selling isn't limited to stuff. Social media also sells dissatisfaction. It knows which stories will make us angry and which opinions will keep us scrolling. An advertisement tells us we don't own enough. The algorithm tells us we aren't respected, represented, successful, or understood enough.

With entertainment like that, who needs enemies? And really, if we logged off satiated and in a good mood, that would be terrible for the business of desire. Enough doesn't do enough for the bottom lines. Ordinary and happy doesn't drive the newest product; insecurity does.

And I bet most of us would probably describe the life we want in fairly ordinary terms. A home with air conditioning and storage. Enough money to pay the bills without panic, a little bit for savings, and some for splurging on nights out. We'd like to fill our homes with some knickknacks for memories and happiness, but also fill them with people we love who love us back and who are healthy. We'd like a job that matters at least a little and leaves enough of us behind to enjoy the rest of our lives.

Then, if we are lucky enough to acquire some of those things, there's a terrible habit of things — and people — becoming background scenery once we have them.

The home becomes the house without enough storage. The spouse becomes the person who schedules something without checking the calendar. The children become distant worlds that you need to travel to and who aren't always present, even if they're in the living room.

None of this means that wanting more is inherently bad. Nor does "enough" mean complacency, particularly when plenty of people genuinely do not have enough housing, food, money, safety or time. There is a difference between telling someone struggling to survive that they should be grateful and asking those of us with some stability why stability can still feel insufficient.

Enough doesn't mean we stop wanting change or new things. It means wanting the next thing shouldn't obscure the life we already built.

There will probably always be something I want, like a new puzzle, a little more money in savings, maybe a byline in The Atlantic. But sometimes the thing you wanted is already hanging in your closet, worn thin from more than a decade of summer evenings. Sometimes the life you were working toward arrives without much fanfare and is only recognized when you take a breath and look around. Sometimes it takes an old dress to remind you.

So my son knows the answer to the question, "What time is it?" as I'm kicking off my shoes. The answer he happily yells back is that it's "house dress time," and I know that is enough.

Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at [email protected]. To learn more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Alex Moliski at Unsplash