Lately, I’ve been working on a simple goal: bring my average day as close as possible to my ideal day.

An ordinary day, with work to do, people to care about, a body to maintain, and things to learn. A day I would be happy to repeat, with enough variety to keep it interesting.

I want to keep learning, growing, making things, and being useful to others. I also want time with my family, time alone, time with my dog, and some rest. I want those things to have a place in the life I’m living now.

That has become a useful way to think about happiness.

Give the good life a place in the week

Ryan Holiday’s writing about Stoicism has helped me think through this. In “You Could Have Today. Instead You Choose Tomorrow.”, he describes figuring out what he wants his ordinary life to look like, then making decisions according to whether they allow more or less of that life right now.

There is a deeper idea behind it. The Stoic understanding of happiness connects flourishing with character and living well: the choices we make, the responsibilities we fulfill, and the kind of person we practice becoming.

I’ve been translating that into a practical question: how much does the way I actually spend my time resemble the life I say I want?

The ideal-day/average-day comparison is my way of applying that thinking. It gives me something concrete to examine. I can look at an ordinary week and see whether the things that matter to me have a place in it.

To make that easier, I defined buckets of activity: physical, mental, financial, social, and other areas that matter in my life. Then I started aligning my daily activities with those buckets.

Across the week, I try to hit as many of them as possible.

The weekly view matters. Some days naturally contain more work. Others allow more exploration, family time, or rest. Each day can contribute something without having to contain everything.

The buckets help me notice what is getting attention and what might be getting crowded out. They also remind me that a satisfying life has several dimensions. Financial responsibilities need attention. So do physical health, relationships, curiosity, and the opportunity to be of service.

What a great day actually contains

My physical activities vary by day: yoga, lifting, biking, and other movement. That gives physical engagement a regular place in the week while keeping some variety.

Each day also includes a few mental tasks. I write every day. I research, make content, and spend time exploring things that interest me. That might mean trying to acquire a new skill quickly, taking a deep dive into a topic, working through a book summary or podcast, or journaling.

Those activities help me stay engaged and keep learning. They give me opportunities to make something, develop an idea, or understand something more fully.

Work belongs in this picture too. Several days a week, I do light work at MSI. A couple of days are more deeply focused on customers. That work keeps me mentally active and gives me a way to be useful to other people.

I work in time with my family, time alone, and time walking or playing with my dog. There is some rest in there too.

That’s a great day.

What appeals to me is how ordinary those ingredients are. They are things I can arrange my days around and return to regularly. The mix can change while the underlying priorities remain recognizable.

Work that belongs in the life I want

This has also changed the question I’m asking about retirement.

If the life I want includes writing, learning, making things, helping customers, and being of service, then those activities can continue to belong in it. The amount of work and the shape of it can evolve. The aim is to make room for work I value alongside the other parts of life I value.

I’m trying to build a life I don’t need to retire from.

The same thought applies to extended vacations. I want a trip to add something to a life I already enjoy. I want the day I come home to be a day I’m glad to have.

That makes the average day a fairly demanding test. A good plan needs to show up in the way the week is actually lived. It needs to leave room for engagement, improvement, relationships, contribution, and recovery.

The buckets give me a way to keep that whole picture in view.

Leave room for the day that happens

An ideal day can guide my choices without becoming a requirement that every day must meet. Schedules change. Other people have needs. Some days call for more work or more rest than I expected.

There is a Stoic practice in that too: make thoughtful choices where I can, fulfill my responsibilities, and respond as well as I can when circumstances change.

Looking across the week gives the process some flexibility. If an important area has been neglected, I can notice it and make room for it again. The useful question is what adjustment would bring the next few days closer to the life I want to live.

That is what I’m working on: making the good ingredients of my ideal day increasingly normal in my average day.

There is room to improve, and there will always be more to learn. For me, that is part of the appeal. Engagement, growth, service, and rest can all belong in an ordinary week.

What would you want in a day you’d be glad to repeat—and what is one part of it you could give a place in this week?