Contentment

So my theory for life thus far has been accumulated to the point where it consists of this:
To maximize a "good" life, two requirements must be met
1. An increasing level of satisfaction. This is fulfilled by rational, reasoning goals being achieved, feeling effective, and useful. The slower the build, the longer the last, typically.
2. A high level of happiness on top of satisfaction. This is fulfilled by pure visceral sensibility. It tends to fluctuate rapidly however.

So tonight was a night that I realized just how damn happy I was. I'd succeded in planning and executing a proper meal (that didn't involve ANY kraft dinner or instant soup!) Had a wonderful actual date night, and felt generally competant.
But the true frosting came when I sat down to check my comics, and noticed my bed. I have a single day bed, but when my bf sleeps over, we put pillows side by side and make it into a little double bed, sort of. the sight of my clean hardwood floor, and the little bed just waiting for us made me feel really happy. And I realize I'm totally content now. And then I thought; Is this it? Is this all life has to offer? These moments of happiness. There must be something deeper. Something longer lasting that visceral happiness, or even deep satisfaction. Perhaps that's why I'm in philosophy. To find a wisdom that will last longer. Or produce something. Other than happiness, it must be because even happiness does not really... I don't know.
There must be more to life than happiness. Or even Satisfaction.
Ow. Brain hurts.