When I was in my twenties, I had a little habit that brought me great joy. It was consistent. It took very little time. It cost very little money. It was so small that I don’t know how I began to recognize it as something that had a profound effect on my life.

This habit was simple: every Thursday, on my way to community college, I would wash my car at the self-serve car wash.

I don’t know why it gave me such a good feeling. Maybe it was the fact that it was an easy task, requiring little thought. Perhaps it was the satisfaction of accomplishing a chore in 15 minutes or less. (Those self-serve washers are timed!) It got me up and moving, and outside—sometimes a little sweaty if I was rushing.

Part of the enjoyment was that I started school just a little later on Thursday, and it seamlessly fit into my schedule. I kind of felt like a pilot making a smooth landing and then gliding off into the airport, head held high, disappearing into a well-oiled life.

No matter the reason, I remember those days fondly. Me and my vintage red Volvo, freshly vacuumed and washed, driving to school in the warm Southern California weather. Never mind that the car was completely unreliable and took ”unplanned breaks” whenever it felt like it. Or that it wasn’t a particularly happy part of my life, but that weekly carwashing habit stuck fast in my memory and is, oddly, a highlight of those days.

So, when I began to feel out of sorts last year, I purposely searched for ”things” that made me happy. I know happiness, contentment. I’ve felt it before. But what could I do now to create a reliable happiness? I was at a loss for a long time. It didn’t help that when you’re in a funk, you tend to dismiss every possibility.

I remembered that old car-washing satisfaction, but at first, I didn’t think much of it. I’d developed a pessimistic resistance. To maintain my confidence, I realized I needed something to grab on to. Something to build myself back up. I was getting desperate.

But there was the conundrum. I just kept thinking ”big.” As I spent time ruminating in regrets, I began to doubt my own decision-making skills.

And then realized. I could try it just once and see how it goes. I could give it a go.

So, I came up with the idea to start washing my car once a week on a certain day, just like I did back in my 20s.

Like old times.

My white 2005 Honda Accord certainly needed it. That slow and despondent attitude that I’d been carrying around was not good for my car. It’s an outside car, and I think there may be an owl that sits on the wires just above it and poops on it. I mean, it was filthy.

Friday became my day. I grabbed my blue bucket, heavy with shampoo and polish that my dad had given me over the last 20 years, and I went to work. I didn’t press myself too hard. This was a trial. I’d just give it a good wash and a good dry. I parked my car right out on the street since we have an oddly sloping driveway. It was so far from the house that I had to get the backyard hose to attach to the front yard hose so that I could reach it.

My neighbor was the only one to comment—“‘You never see that anymore, someone washing their car in the street!” We laughed about it, but I took it as a compliment, and it felt good.

As the weeks progressed, my car began to look better. It’s 20 years old, but I started to notice it in the parking lot of the grocery store. It had a couple of dents that I was working on pulling out with a Harbor Freight suction device that I’d found, and there’s one nickel-sized spot of rust that I intend to figure out. But still, it looked good. I also couldn’t help noticing other cars, dirty, dusty cars in the parking lot. I allowed myself a little well-earned pride, but wished I could spread the word about my little habit and how satisfying it had become.

Last week, I spent almost an entire Sunday cleaning the interior. I even dyed the stained brown floor mat with black Rit Dye. It looks so much better.

But, it didn’t end there. I chose Friday as the day to clean my car because the trash pickup is on that day, and by the early evening, when I clean my car, the cans are empty. I figured a lot of dust comes up that day—best to clean the car afterwards. For some reason, maybe because the hose was out there, I decided to water the plants in front, and then a new idea occurred to me: I should wash the outside of my trash cans. The big plastic bins are havens for muck and scum and spiders. Locally, we have a lot of Black Widow spiders, so taking out the trash is risky business. After cleaning my car, I take the bucket of soapy water and scrub my trash cans, giving them a quick rinse and a dry.

It sounds silly, I know, but I did get one satisfying reaction from a friend.

One day, we were taking a walk. She is pretty sceptical, but has a great sense of humor. I joked with her about my trash cans as we walked past a particularly dirty can in front of a neighbor’s house. She laughed, but when we ended up at my house, I showed her my trash cans. No spider webs, no smudges of dirt, and the big green one even had a pleasing sheen to it. She was noticeably surprised. As funny as it sounds, I know it does make a difference.

The thing I learned is this: don’t underestimate easy habits. Make tasks simple and avoid perfection—each week, my car (and trash cans!) got incrementally cleaner. It didn’t happen overnight. Slowly, slowly, it is the process itself that has become enjoyable. Most of all, while other people may choose to pay someone to do their chores for them, I think there’s something inherently happiness-boosting about doing your own. It’s cheaper too!