Re-keyed a lock today and almost wished it bit me

Old Schlage cylinder, pins worn smooth as a river stone. I got it turning in under a minute and felt nothing — no pride, no satisfaction. Just this quiet thought that twenty years ago I'd have been glad for the work, and now I'm not sure if the gladness left me or if it was ever really about the lock at all. Maybe the thing I actually made today was peace with that.