An old buddy called this morning and told me, to my delight, that “this timer thing really works.” He said he had been more “leisurely productive” in the past week than he had been in years.
The ”timer thing” he was referring to was based on a fun, but somewhat goofy little book I wrote entitled, Confessions of a Two Timer—How to Use an Ordinary Kitchen Timer to Find Flow, Overcome Procrastination, Win Prizes, Be Popular and Become a Neighborhood Buddha. Curiously, I found that after writing that book, I started using my own timer (for which I have a home-made belt holster) a lot more than before I wrote the book. I convinced myself how useful a timer can be! And apparently, here in this new time we are in, I had likewise convinced my buddy.
Basically, it all comes down to attention. Or more specifically, “frames of attention.” Or even more specifically, the act of framing attention, which the basic kitchen timer does quite well. (For more on attention, frames of attention, and the coronavirus see my earlier post, Why I Aint Afraid of No Ghosts.”)
It’s all about attention. When we are at work, we are basically renting out our attention, so most often someone frames it for us. At work, we have “built-in” frames of attention: when we’re supposed to arrive, where we sit, (or stand or drive the forklift,) when’s lunch, what the deadline is, who is working with us to meet those deadlines, and when to leave.
“When I’m in the office,” my son Sam, a veteran computer animator, recently observed, “I see all these young Turks pounding away at their computers, so I know I better stop slacking, start hustling, at least a little. But when I’m working from home (which he is now doing), nothing outside of my own brain reminds me I should stop slacking, get to work.”
Working at home—from home—our attention is free to go everywhere and anywhere. I could do a load of laundry, clean the refrigerator or read more about quantum physics. Or, more likely, take a nap. We know we should be working (if we are still getting paid to work remotely, or are working on something more personal for which we someday might get paid). But we’ve lost the outer, built-in frame (frames) of attention that the physical office or work environment once supplied.
Even if it’s our spouse that usually goes to work and we are accustomed to staying home, the all-day presence of the spouse interrupts our usual daily frame of attention. He/she goes to work at___, comes home at___, and the time in between I have this, that, and this again to do. The spouse’s regular work frames give us both regular frames of attention. Now, with the spouse around all day, frames of attention are shattered, or at least made catawampus.
That’s where the kitchen timer comes in handy. Even for those of us who have been retired for many years, this “sheltering in place” disrupts many of our frames of attention—pinochle on Tuesday, pickleball on Thursday, coffee with the guys on Friday, etc. etc. And we get the dishes and laundry done in-between.
In these times of “unframed uncertainty” —uncertainty has escaped the box and is (almost) everywhere—I have discovered that a simple technique, a simple tool for once again easefully “framing attention” is as close as my handy kitchen timer.
Here’s how I use it: Okay, the dishes need doing (or that report needs written.) But I’ve got the whole day—the whole damned week! Lots of time. What’s the rush?
Step 1: I estimate the time it will take to do the dishes (15 minutes, max) or write the report (an hour, an hour and a half at most.)
Step 2: I set the timer for fifteen (or ninety) minutes. (I never set the timer for any longer than 90 minutes. I know my own work habits! And limits.)
Step 3: Start the timer. Just do the damned dishes, or write the report.
Curiously, step 1 and 2 are huge, and make the step 3 almost effortless. When we set up an “estimated time” for a particular focus of attention—even if it’s a wild-assed guess—and then bring that estimated time into physical reality by putting it on the timer, we have succeeded in “framing our attention.”
Important point: I am not trying to get the dishes done or the report written in the time I estimated. I don’t want to add more pressure to my life. If it takes less time, great. If it takes more, so be it. Here’s the deal: the timer simply allows us to do the dishes as we are doing the dishes, and not be in a dozen other places at the same time. Attention is allowed to rest on the dishes. Chaos decreases.
If you’re working from home (still on the payroll) I would actually suggest 65 minutes be the maximum amount of time you set for any given period to work on your projects. (Unless it’s a project I really love and look forward to doing, 90 minutes is actually too long!) Even at work, researchers have documented that most people rarely devote a straight 65 minutes in a row to their projects. We all get up, get coffee, talk with colleagues, check email, the news, the squirrel in the tree outside. You’ll be amazed at how much work you can get done in a straight 65-minute stretch.
More often (knowing my work habits and limits) I set my timer for 13, 27, 39 minutes. Sometimes even 3 or 9 minutes (It takes seven minutes to unload the old dishes from the dishwasher and put in the new ones from the sink.)
Here’s another important hint, that many people will skip: It is MUCH easier, more efficient, and definitely more pleasant to use a timer rather try to do it by looking at the clock. Looking at the clock is what we used to do as grade-school kids, wishing it was time for school to be out. Curiously, by using the timer, you can forget about time, you can get away from time! Tasks and chores (and favorite hobbies and projects) all flow more smoothly when we use a timer—again not to try to get it done in a certain amount of time, but rather to simply frame attention.
I have discovered that when I use my timer to frame my attention for several brief or semi-brief times each day, I get a lot more (well, a little more) done each day. And I can be a slacker, until I’m moved to frame it again. Attention is the key. And attention (as we’ll investigate in another post) is another word for love.
