I was on vacation last week and mostly disconnected from Teh Internets. There was plenty of farm-ish work to handle as part of the seasonal shutdown. All in all, it was great. So when I logged into a computer on Monday, what happened? What disasters awaited me?
None. Everything kept going in my absence. Sure, I had an overflowing inbox. An hour to triage email for urgent items and then I left it alone. I’ll get to it. Anything I missed will bubble back up. It always does.
I pivoted to what I always do. I open up my calendar from the week before I went on vacation and orient myself to where I was and then forward to this week to sort out where I’m going. I opened an Apple Note and hit the dictate button. Rambled on about what I saw in my calendar and whatever came to mind. Copy and paste into the chatbot. It spit back an organized version of my thoughts. Within minutes, my calendar was up to date and my weekly list was ready to go. Clickity-clack, I was back on track.
That little ritual reminded me why I do it every week. It’s less about catching up and more about finding my footing again. The mental reboot that makes the rest of the system work.
Most weeks don’t fail because the tools quit working. They fail because you drift.
The task lists keep syncing, the calendar keeps ticking, but your sense of which week you’re actually in quietly evaporates.
That’s usually my cue to run a weekly reset. Sometimes it’s like what I did this week. Sometimes it’s more robust. But I do it.
Not a “review” (that sounds like paperwork and guilt). Not “planning” (that’s aspirational nonsense and mostly lies).
A reset is simpler: get your bearings, figure out what the Fiddler’s Firetruck just happened, and decide what’s next.
All the productivity systems espouse the so-called Weekly Review. I get it. It’s clutch.
But, truth bomb. I almost never do it on Fridays. I’m fried.
Saturday or Sunday morning, coffee in hand, I’ll tap a few notes or dictate into my phone. Then on Monday morning, calendar open, I scan last week and the one ahead. I tell myself I’ll spend 10 minutes on it. But once I start talking to my shiny slab of glass and plastic, I’m fine. Action precedes motivation.
It’s a step outside myself. It’s definitely not objective (I’m very judgy), but close enough.
I treat it like self-coaching: “So this happened. Why?” I’m not grading performance. I’m hunting for clarity.
The structure is simple. Six questions. Three looking back, three looking forward. I don’t answer them like it’s a test. It’s not a checklist so much as a lens I hold up while talking through the week. I have them on a sticky note. Seriously. It’s an agile productivity thing.
Looking back
What were my victories, large or small?
Who did I help?
What did I learn?
Looking forward
What achievable thing would move the peg this week?
What rocks are in my way?
What does my squad need from me?
That’s it. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. No dashboards, no shame.
Just a brain dump into something: Apple Notes, a notebook, the back of an envelope. Whatever’s within reach. I feed it to a chatbot afterward and let it echo back the themes or pull the action items. It’s enough to remind me what matters.
Because this isn’t about artifacts. It’s about process.
A review keeps the machine running. The reset keeps me running.
When I’m done, I know it. The noise drops. The week has edges again.
Coffee’s cold, plan’s rough, lessons noted.
That’s all it takes to feel reoriented again. Good to go.