When is it enough? Where does one draw the line? I suspect it's a different point for each of us. And perhaps it's those lines that defines who we are more than we would like to believe.
There has never been a product we've designed that couldn't be better than it is. You spend upwards of a year refining and polishing the idea you started with: a new preamp, DAC, cable, tchotchke of some kind. And when it is finally done, you stand back and admire your work, enjoy the fruits of your labor, blood sweat and tears to get there–and you know you could do better–you could scrap all you have done and start over–or maybe just redo this one little bit…
Last night, as I cleaned up from dinner, I started the dishwasher, and wiped down the counters, and I felt satisfaction for a job well done. But then I noticed the floor. Damn! Prepping fresh tomatoes from the garden left shard of skins and a few green tops that had fallen, and as I looked closer, crumbs from that morning's breakfast remained as well. As I swept I suddenly noticed the cabinets–fingerprints and stains–that could use a cleaning as well. But it was late. I drew the line. It was good enough. The rest could wait.
The work you're doing, the book you're writing, the product you're designing, the house you're cleaning, the lawn you're mowing, could all benefit from more attention.
Perhaps it's instructive to note it is the lines we draw, not the work we do, that better define who we are.