
The two-minute rule has two faces, and both of them work.
The first belongs to David Allen, the productivity consultant: if something takes less than two minutes — answering that message, hanging up your coat, writing down the appointment — do it now. Filing it, remembering it and picking it up again costs more than simply dispatching it. Every tiny task you postpone stays behind, paying rent in your head.
The second belongs to James Clear, the habits writer: when you want to build a new habit, shrink it until it fits into two minutes. 'Read every night' becomes 'read one page'. 'Go for a run' becomes 'put on your running shoes'. It sounds like a silly trick and it's exactly the opposite: a habit can't be improved until it exists, and what makes it exist isn't intensity — it's showing up. Nobody meditates for an hour on day one; everybody can sit down for sixty seconds.
Both faces disarm the same trap: the imaginary weight of starting. The two-minute task almost never stays at two. But that's no longer your problem: your only job was to walk through the door.