The Days That Don’t Look Productive

It was a typical day.
Well, that’s not actually true.

I don’t usually need to call the Department of Treasury to find out why our income tax refund was reduced—by a significant amount.

Four phone calls across three workdays just to get through—and then put on hold for 25 minutes.

Twenty-five more minutes for the agent to research the issue and tell me they hadn’t received my first quarter estimate. And for me to reply that I did pay it and give her the details.

“Do you have proof you paid it?” she asked kindly.

“Um, yes actually. What do you need and where do I send it?”

And she tells me.

And I take time to go to the bank because what I can print from my online account doesn’t suffice.

In between, I stay focused during a recurring client meeting.

By the time I get home from the bank, I realize I have 40 minutes until it’s time to leave for a hair appointment. Too much time to do nothing—not enough time to do something significant.

I email the information to the state.

But it’s also Wednesday and Sifting Life Together goes out Friday morning. I have no idea what I’m going to write about, so of course, I have nothing written. Looking at my calendar, I realize Thursday is busy too.

And I begin measuring my day by the productivity I lost.

I question taking time for a hair appointment. Is that really a priority?

But I’ve had it scheduled for eight weeks.

When we take care of necessary things that don’t fall into our definition of “productive,” it becomes easy to see the day as lost. We like visible output, checked boxes, and completed work.

We like to feel in flow around our day and to know we’re moving forward in our actions.

Tasks like calls to inquire about a missing quarterly payment—even hair appointments—can feel like lost productivity. But they still cost us time and energy. They’re still necessary. And they still count.

Not every piece of meaningful work is visible. Or gives us a sense of moving forward.

But when we stop judging ourselves and instead relax into the reality of our day, we often discover there’s still enough energy for what matters most.

Or maybe just enough energy for another necessary but unrewarding task.

But it gets done.

And maybe that matters more than we give ourselves credit for.

When I got home, I ate. Then I took a 20-minute nap. Then I played a digital game—or two.

After that, I paid bills, cleaned up the kitchen, and did my evening stretches.

Now it’s Thursday.

And I write.

Waiting for a reply from the Department of Treasury.

Maybe the day wasn’t wasted.

Maybe it was simply real.