Watching a dryer tumble at the laundromat for forty minutes is accidental meditation. You can’t fold faster by staring.

Some processes are completely indifferent to how closely you watch them. The machine takes forty minutes whether you stare or sleep, which is unusual in a day full of things that respond to effort. That is why the time feels strange at first and good later.

Treat the next enforced wait as given rather than stolen. The dryer, the bus, the queue, the twenty minutes before a ride comes. Instead of filling it, let it be the gap it already is, since those are some of the only unclaimed minutes you get.