There is nothing more rewarding than a problem solved, and one of the finest examples of this is a satisfactorily scratched itch
First of all, let’s get this straight: the itch is the thing you scratch. Itch, to me, is not the verb. Some people think itch is the verb, and I find this almost as uncomfortable as an itch itself. An itch, as we know, is very distressing. But there is nothing more rewarding than a problem solved, and it is my deeply felt belief that one of the finest examples of this is a satisfactorily scratched itch.
I don’t mean more pervasive itching: nobody lusts after scabies, painful psoriasis or the kind of eczema that makes life as unbearable as tinnitus; but hitting the spot of that niggling sensation is a moment of pure bliss. Scrabbling up and down the stubbly regrowth of shins; the momentary relief from scalping the heads of holiday midge bites; pressuring your partner into giving you a back rub and making them work a very specific spot between the shoulder blades (left a bit, right a bit), for way longer than they are happy with, resulting in shudders of delight.
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