I usually try to imagine my computer/code as an extremely dumb superhero personal assistant. If I want my coffee I have to spend quite a bit of time instructin

I usually try to imagine my computer/code as an extremely dumb superhero personal assistant. If I want my coffee I have to spend quite a bit of time instructing said assistant to open doors along the way rather than just walk into them (thankfully there's an OpenDoorEx library for that!). I'll also have to carefully come up with an exhaustive list of interactions that my assistant might have with the barista (and agonize over the fact that I can never be sure that this external API is fully covered). And that's just some of it. But when I've done all that work, my assistant can get my a coffee in seconds, because they're ridiculously fast, powerful, and precise. And over time the work I put in up-front will be paid off pretty quickly because it takes them seconds rather than an hour to get me my coffee, twice a day. I suppose the fact that I sort of enjoy coming up with these ridiculously precise instructions is why I'm a programmer. Of course in practice the OpenDoors library will break, or one of the doors on the way suddenly works differently. The new barista might have a speech impediment, or the items on the menu might change. Or my boss wants coffee too so now I have to teach my assistant to open doors with their elbows. To normal people all of this is purely maddening, but for me it's 50% frustrating, and 50% an excuse to get to come up with new instructions!