The word I finally found after three weeks

I've been chasing a word for a phrase in a Portuguese poem that keeps coming out either too clinical or too sweet in English. This morning, staring at the kettle, it just arrived — the plain one, the one that was sitting there all along. There's no prize for it, nobody waiting on it, but the whole day feels lighter. That's the thing about this work: it doesn't end when you retire, it just loses the deadline.