Two-Minute Rule. A staple of productivity. If a small task can be done in two minutes or slightly more, just do it. Despite my assorted annoyances with my current low-end smartwatch, it has an easily accessible two-minute countdown timer. In that time, I can wash all four of the coffee mugs that fit on the outer holders of my dish rack. If I want to wash utensils, I can do about two place settings before my wrist buzzes. Watering my aerogarden takes less time than that, even if I have to fill up the two-liter harvested juice jug with fresh water. Refreshing the potted herbs outside my front door takes a little longer.
Indeed, I can time most any task. Not how long it takes to do, but how long I am willing to work on it. My semi-annual projects for this cycle include things that have a lot of steps. Slow and steady wins the ketchup race, the commercial from my childhood taught me. Repurposing my adult son's bedroom will take many hours. Boxes everywhere. Paper dating back to grade school. Crammed dresser and nightstand drawers. A desk that he rarely used but was my pride to provide it for him. Electronics long gone obsolete. That gets fifteen minutes per session on my timer. I shoot for two sessions per week, but if only fifteen minutes at a time, I could do more without feeling overwhelmed. And with the ability to sort things that he may treasure, his awards, birthday cards, special clothing. Fifteen minutes of sorting or washing or discarding at a time gets it done over about three months.
My own bedroom gets only ten minutes at a time, two or three sessions a week. I've already been able to vacuum my half. Surfaces have started to appear functional, sorting just a few sections at a time while discarding very little.
My Space only gets six minutes at a time. Not that I am unwilling to allocate more of my attention, but after six minutes something stymies additional progress. But I can see more than an end point. I recently recaptured my beloved Lands End Canvas Attaché, an indulgence purchase early in my career. The Eddie Bauer cloth attache sits next to my desk chair. It holds recreational items, mostly art. And next to that I store a leather briefcase, purchased for $60 with the intent of looking upscale professional. It's rarely been toted anywhere. The cloth ones with neck straps captured the market due to better utility. The leather one with its dual handles lets me see what I once aspired to have. Six minutes at a time will bring My Space to what I had envisioned as what I would really do with a personalized part of my house, right down to my display of collegiate coffee mugs from the many campuses I've visited. My many diplomas sit wrapped and in storage. My Space has no reason to morph into a monument to myself.
My projects also include expressing myself in various ways as I move into the years of limited anticipated longevity. Can I write a 90K word book? If I set my timer for 90 minutes and write 750 words, it will add up.
Other goals, or really systems to reach those goals, do not adapt as easily to a timer. My treadmill sessions have a count-up timer, 30 minutes. I set the intensity. Stretching has a program of 8 minutes spread over 16 half-minute exercises. I plan to host three dinners to challenge my creativity, social skills, and kitchen expertise. Pulling this off requires steps, some like stove or oven times dictated by recipes. I guess I could surf or read cookbooks for soup or dessert options using a timer, but this type of task I tend to work until the step has been completed. I like going on day trips, having done one of the three intended for this cycle. The timer does not aid in completing this. Rather, I pick a day, destination, starting time, and return time, then do it as a unified effort. Once every November, I deal with my IRA. This includes allocation to charities working with my financial advisor, then a few weeks later, depositing the rest of my mandatory withdrawal in my checking account or a different investment account. The timer doesn't properly segment everything.
But a third of the way through this semi-annual cycle, I've done rather well, even on my manuscript. The short bursts seem productive, not at all stressful. Visible progress appears. It makes for a good system to bring difficult initiatives to completion, something that has chronically challenged me.
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