Hi Reader,
I have two IKEA Kallax shelving units in my office dedicated entirely to my consulting business.
When I first bought them, they were meant to hold the books, binders, and resources I actually use in my day-to-day work. Over time, though, they slowly became more of a storage area. They filled up with old binders, papers, office supplies, highlighters, and materials I no longer needed but hadn't gotten around to sorting through.
As those shelves became less useful, my desk quietly picked up the slack. Papers piled up. Books stacked wherever there was room. Notes and files spread across my workspace because there was nowhere convenient to put them. It happened so gradually that I stopped noticing it.
Last week, I decided to reclaim just one cube.
I recycled six three-ring binders, most of their contents, and a surprising amount of paper I'd been keeping because I thought I might need it someday. I kept only what still mattered.
It took about thirty minutes.
My first thought was, "That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought."
Now I have one usable cube again and a little more room on my desk. What's funny is, I haven't tackled the rest of the shelving units yet, even though I know they'd probably take less time than I've built them up to in my mind.
Reclaiming that one cube made me realize something much bigger than office organization.
The Weekly Edge
As I was putting things away, I realized something.
The shelving units hadn't become storage overnight. They drifted there. When I first bought them, they supported the way I worked. The books, binders, and resources I used regularly were easy to reach, and everything had a place.
Then, little by little, that changed. One binder became something I "might need someday." A few papers got tucked into a folder. Office supplies landed wherever there was room. None of those decisions seemed important on their own, but over time the shelving units stopped supporting the way I work and gradually became a place to store things I wasn't using anymore.
I adapted without really thinking about it. My desk became the overflow. I stacked things where I could, searched a little longer for what I needed, and worked around the problem instead of fixing it. It became my new normal.
That's when it hit me.
This wasn't really about office organization. It was about friction.
The shelving units weren't costing me thirty minutes. They were costing me a little bit every single day. A little more searching. A little more visual clutter. A little more mental noise. None of those things felt significant on their own, but together they quietly changed the way I worked.
Businesses drift the same way. Very few systems become inefficient overnight. A CRM, a pricing structure, an onboarding process, or even a weekly meeting can slowly drift away from the purpose it originally served. Before long, we've adapted to the friction instead of questioning it.
Every time we work around that friction instead of removing it, our business quietly asks a little more of us. Every small source of friction quietly steals a little capacity.
So the better question isn't, "What do I need to add?"
It's, "What source of friction have I gotten so used to that I don't even notice anymore?"
One Small Move
Take a look around your business this week and ask yourself:
What have I simply gotten used to working around?
Maybe it's a cluttered workspace. Maybe it's a spreadsheet you keep recreating instead of fixing. Maybe it's a client onboarding process that's become more complicated over time. Maybe it's a folder structure, a pricing sheet, or a recurring task you've been meaning to simplify "someday."
You don't have to overhaul your business.
Just reclaim one small piece of it.
Set aside 30 minutes this week and remove one source of friction that's quietly asking more of you than it should.
Future-you will thank you every time you don't have to work around it again.
What I’m Paying Attention To
I recently came across a line from James Clear that made me stop:
"The problem with keeping your options open is that every option requires energy to hold. And a shelf full of maybes is often heavier than a hand holding one yes. Put something down."
At first, I thought he was talking about decisions.
Then I realized he could just as easily have been talking about systems.
Whether it's a shelf, a CRM, a pricing page, or a weekly meeting, the things we stop evaluating have a way of quietly becoming part of the landscape. We adapt to them. We work around them. Before long, we stop asking whether they're still serving the purpose they were originally built for.
A CRM quietly becomes a contact graveyard.
A pricing page slowly becomes outdated.
A weekly meeting becomes a habit instead of a valuable conversation.
A process starts costing more than it saves.
None of those changes happen all at once.
They drift.
And because they drift, we often stop noticing them.
The things we stop noticing are often the things costing us the most.
One of the themes I've been exploring this month is protecting our capacity as business owners.
Sometimes that means making a decision.
Sometimes it means protecting our attention.
And sometimes it means noticing the small sources of friction we've simply learned to live with.
The good news is that removing friction doesn't always require a major overhaul. Sometimes it starts with reclaiming one small piece of your business, and giving yourself just a little more capacity for the work that matters most.
I'm curious...what's one source of friction you've gotten so used to that you almost don't notice it anymore? Hit reply and let me know. I read every response, and I'd genuinely love to hear what came to mind for you.
Have a great week,
Lucy
P.S. Cleaning out those shelves also confirmed something I probably already knew: I own far more pens, colored pencils, and highlighters than any one person needs. Apparently I just forgot where some of them were. 😄
If you have a favorite pen or highlighter you swear by, hit reply and tell me. I'm always looking for my next favorite.
