Advice about adding something to your routine usually assumes a routine with space in it. Most do not have any. The question is not what you should add but where a thing can go without displacing something that is already load-bearing.
Talking has one useful property here: it fits in the gaps where your hands and eyes are busy but your mouth is not. That is a surprisingly large amount of most weeks, and almost none of it is currently used for anything.
The slots that work
The commute. The most reliable one by a wide margin, and the reason is structural rather than motivational — it happens whether you feel like it or not, it has a fixed length, and you are already alone. Driving, walking, or on a train with headphones all work. This is where most exam drilling and language practice actually happens.
The walk after lunch. Twenty minutes, low stakes, no one expects anything of you. Good for the kind of thinking-out-loud that has no deliverable.
The evening before something. The highest-value slot and the least regular. The night before an interview, a difficult conversation, a first date, a race — this is where a single rehearsal changes the outcome more than a month of preparation did.
Nap time. If you have a small child, you know the shape of this: twenty minutes, unpredictable, cannot be scheduled in advance. Short check-ins fit; anything requiring setup does not.
The gap between meetings. Eleven minutes is useless for deep work and fine for saying one answer out loud three times.
After the kids are down. Nine-thirty onwards, which is when a large number of people are free for the first time all day and when nothing staffed by humans is available.
The Sunday check-in. Weekly, ten minutes, reviewing what happened and committing to the next week. Works for training, habits, job searches — anything where the failure mode is drift rather than difficulty.
The 1am hour. Not for productivity. For the times when something is turning over in your head and everyone you would call is asleep.
Waiting. Airport, doctor's office, school pickup, the car outside a place you arrived early for. Dead time that reliably exists and is currently spent scrolling.
The slots that sound good and never happen
First thing in the morning. People schedule this and then do not do it. The morning is already fully committed in most households, and the version of you that agreed to it the night before is not the version that wakes up.
Instead of a lunch break. Your lunch break is not underused, it is the only part of the day that is yours. Filling it with something structured tends to last about nine days.
A dedicated hour. The instinct is to protect time properly, and it is the least durable arrangement of all. An hour is easy to postpone because it needs to be planned; ten minutes in a slot that already exists needs nothing.
How to actually start
Pick one slot that already happens without your intervention, and attach one thing to it. Not three things, and not a slot you would have to create.
The test for whether it will survive is uncomfortable but reliable: if it requires you to decide to do it each time, it will last about two weeks. If it is attached to something that happens anyway — the drive, the walk, Sunday evening — it has a chance.
Everything else is detail. Whether you are practising a language, rehearsing a pitch, or being asked whether you did your three sessions, the mechanism that determines whether it continues is the same, and it has almost nothing to do with what you are practising.