Dilly-dallying

The surprising productivity of "unproductive" time

A friend and I were on a long drive together when she brought up a story from Kurt Vonnegut about buying an envelope.

In his words:

“…I’m going down the steps, and my wife calls up, “Where are you going?” I say, “Well, I’m going to go buy an envelope.” And she says, “You’re not a poor man. Why don’t you buy a thousand envelopes? They’ll deliver them, and you can put them in a closet.” And I say, “Hush.” So I go down the steps here, and I go out to this newsstand across the street where they sell magazines and lottery tickets and stationery. I have to get in line because there are people buying candy and all that sort of thing, and I talk to them…”

But that’s not the end! He continues…

“…I get my envelope and seal it up and go to the postal convenience center down the block at the corner of 47th Street and 2nd Avenue, where I’m secretly in love with the woman behind the counter. I keep absolutely poker-faced; I never let her know how I feel about her. One time I had my pocket picked in there and got to meet a cop and tell him about it. Anyway, I address the envelope to Carol in Woodstock. I stamp the envelope and mail it in a mailbox in front of the post office, and I go home. And I’ve had a hell of a good time. And I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you any different.”

Basically, he described some top-notch dilly-dallying.

In his typical breathless, stream-of-consciousness way, Vonnegut elevates a mundane errand into an allegory for being human, and makes a strong case for “farting around.“

It reminded me of another story I once heard that contrasted the joy of meandering with the efficiency of today’s instant answers: a group of friends who spent an entire day trying to answer a trivial question (I think it was about whether two celebrities were related?). They called a radio station, went to the library, wandered into a record store. Hijinks ensued. But if the same thing happened today? It would’ve been a non-event. Twenty seconds on Google would have resolved it. Zero hijinks.

I’m not here to pine about “simpler pre-internet times.” I appreciate that we have access to all the world’s information in our pocket. But as I’ve written about before, there’s something lost without friction and without meandering.

Adding a little bit of inconvenience feels borderline subversive in our busy world. But Vonnegut was right: there is something deeply fulfilling about choosing to dilly-dally.

Dilly Dally Dollhouse

When I first started making dollhouse miniatures, I looked for tutorials, templates and patterns to learn from. I found a Cricut file for a chair at an Etsy store called Dilly Dally Dollhouse. Fittingly, that chair became the first piece of miniature furniture I ever made.

I didn't use this char in my dollhouse, but I did apply the techniques I learned to my own custom design.

My first few months making miniatures were a mix of dilly-dallying and experimentation, powered by a lot of focused energy. It started in January, and I wanted to have the dollhouse done by May for my friends daughter‘s birthday. A deadline, but enough space and time to really explore and have fun with the process.

It was the first time, as an adult, I felt permission—from myself and others—for sustained, guilt-free dilly-dallying. I rarely thought “time to stop farting around” even when I stayed up super late working on the project. Pressure crept in as I got close to the deadline, yet the dilly-dallying was glorious.

But that feeling is rare for most. While Vonnegut regaled us with his adventure in envelope buying, I assume most working adults don’t see this type of meandering as an option for how to live. Internalized capitalism and busyness culture push us toward outcomes and efficiency, even in moments of leisure. Wandering feels wasteful.

So if you only have 20 minutes to work on your creative hobby, there is a lot of pressure to stay focused and take the time seriously. Less dilly-dally, more purposeful progress.

And I’m not immune! It’s a few years after I made my first miniature chair and dollhouse, and I’ve sometimes felt like my permission to dilly-dally has expired. As a “person with no chill” by default, I have to consciously balance my urgency and get-stuff-done attitude with intentional meandering, which I do mostly when I’m working on my creative hobby. Because putting too much pressure on it feels like it’ll negate the health benefits of crafting and like I’m missing the point: the joy of the act of making itself.

Productive meanders

And the thing is, meandering does add up. All the side quests, failed experiments, and small steps accrue into progress, even when you don’t expect it.

This is something I knew, intuitively, but I now feel like I have evidence. Because that progress is made abundantly clear within the Practice app.

Today, the app centers around tracking crafting Sessions, grouped into Projects. Jake recently added what we presumed was a minor feature: a Media view that shows all the photos you’ve uploaded for a project in one place.

An early version of the media tab, mid-scroll, featuring all kinds of mini sandwich-related meandering (and an accidental cameo from my pup, Pinto).

It may sound simple, but the first time I saw the Media view, it honestly took my breath away. Scrolling through a chronological record of my meanders reminded me of the false starts, the paint explosions, and even the sessions where I felt like nothing “got done.” But seeing them in aggregate made it obvious: the dilly-dally wasn’t wasted. It was essential.

It turns out that the Practice app quietly celebrates the dilly-dally.

Practicing patience

However, dilly-dallying is basically anti-startup. Startups are classically all about speed: raise money, manage burn, chase product-market fit. Ironically, many startups pivot, which are arguably very expensive forms of meandering, but rarely get framed that way.

While Practice is a startup, it has sometimes felt a bit like a meander. We raised a small Friends and Family round that covers our SaaS subscriptions, but not full-time salaries. So our pace has been on the slower side. Still, we’ve been surprisingly productive, and the slower rhythm gave me room to host workshops, have conversations, write a lot, and explore Practice’s underlying concepts. It’s felt like “farting around” at times, but in the best possible way.

The truth is, we’ve learned a lot from that meandering. We’ve sharpened our story, learned a ton, and reflected more on the fundamentals. But while I’ll always encourage a good dilly-dally, I don’t want Practice (the company) to feel like one.

And it doesn’t. We hit a huge milestone last week: our first external user (who happens to be my husband, but still!). Next week, more will join the party. We’ve entered a new era.

I’m not saying we’ll cut out all meandering—you learn too much from it. But it’s go time.

Let’s send it!

We’re hand-picking folks from our waitlist for the beta release. If you’d like to be part of our first cohort, I’d love to hear from you at erica@practicemaking.com.