I’m folding and putting away laundry. Towels, mostly. I feel overwhelmed by the task. (It’s late, I’m tired, but I know I’ll enjoy waking up to a laundry-free countertop.) Then I realize that it’s not a task; it’s a collection of tasks. A lot of them. There is the folding of each item—all tasks. There is the transfer of each folded piece of laundry to its home. Tasks.

Then we group them by type, I think, reminding myself that I know how to do this, tired or not. I separate the pillow cases from the bathroom hand towels from the two giant Turkish towels from the microfiber cleaning towels from the two random rags. They’re all in separate piles on the counter. That’s a task right there. Done. I grab the pillow cases for an easy win, skipping the folding and going to the bedroom to put them directly onto the pillows. Another task done. I go back to the kitchen counter and fold the bathroom hand towels. Task done! I don’t have to do them all, but if I put this away in the bathroom right now, that’s one more task done.

Doing laundry is a project, a collection of tasks to achieve the ultimate goal of clean, folded, put-away laundry. The simplicity of each task doesn’t change that. Doing laundry is a project. It is, like all projects, easier to complete if taken one, single effort at a time.

I tend to think of projects as big. Building Daycast is a project, and that’s huge, compared to folding a load of laundry. Or clearing my inbox. Or creating internal guidance materials. Or resolving a support request. But projects come in all different sizes, and these are all projects. Regardless of their size or the simplicity of the tasks involved, I don’t have much fun working on any of my projects when I treat them like tasks, as if each one requires a single, good heave to complete.

Projects are not tasks, I think, putting the last of the folded laundry away. I’m still tired but I’ve enjoyed thinking about all of this while executing my tasks. One towel at a time.