Everything, working together.
The capabilities that make seventy-eight systems feel like one, then the whole inventory, live.
All seventy-eight. Explore them.
Browse by the part of life each one carries, the ✨ assistant is wired into nearly every one. Tap + for the full story, or use the index below.
The Day & Agenda
The part you touch a dozen times before lunch.Passport, licence, registration, certification. Each says how long replacing it takes, so the warning arrives while there is still time to act.
When this happens, do that. Rules watch your own records and make the next thing without being asked.
The job, not the company: the role you are in, applications and where each got to, and the evidence you gather all year.
Focus sessions, blocks, routines, timers and hours logged by hand, added up in one place: where the week actually went.
Medical, work, travel, government: every dated commitment with a time, a reminder, a repeat rule, and its own notes.
Events, time blocks, .ics import and export, and subscriptions to any Google, Outlook or iCloud calendar.
Projects, boards, priorities, and natural-language capture: “dentist tuesday 3pm” files itself.
Streaks with mercy, twice-a-day targets, and honest history.
Pomodoro and stopwatch, with the minutes logged to the parts of your life they belong to.
Targets with numbers and dates, moved by real activity.
Efforts with milestones and a finish line.
Days until, and days since.
Real rings: sound, snooze, repeat days.
A notebook where notes link to each other.
A daily page with prompts, mood and a streak, private by default.
Ten minutes that buys the week back.
The future, kept where you'll see it daily.
One thing named to start the morning; what you closed and tomorrow, staged, by evening.
Everything set to go off, wherever you set it, in one list. Parked thoughts underneath.
Pick a stretch of days and read what happened in it, across every system at once.
Health & Fitness
Health tracked the way a person actually lives.What to take today, what is down to a fortnight, and what a pharmacist would want to read. The last seven days as dots.
A night is when you went, when you woke and how it felt. Seven and thirty night averages, the hours you are short, and what the short ones cost you.
Photograph a plate and it reads it: name, items and a calorie estimate you can correct. Barcodes scan, and anything typed is remembered for next time.
Three taps a day: empty, low, steady, good, full. After a fortnight it knows your hours, which part of the day is yours and which is not, and says what today looks like so far, so the thing that matters can be put where you have something in you.
Meds checklists, exercise log, measurements and trends over time.
Period and phase tracking that stays yours, predicted, never sold.
Guided breathing and a sit timer, with a running total of quiet minutes.
Water first, coffee counts for what it's worth.
The timer that runs while you don't eat.
Routines once; one-tap logging after.
Finances & Budgeting
Every dollar in, out, owed and deductible.What you own that has a price, plus what your accounts hold, less what you owe, with every net worth snapshot drawn as a line.
A second application inside the first: budgets, spending, debts with a payoff plan, cash flow and net worth. It opens inside miya.life on the same sign in, or full width in its own tab when you want the room.
Cash, runway, and spending by category. Import OFX or CSV; merchants sort themselves.
Recurring money, seen before it leaves. Split any bill by name and weight; Who owes whom nets it into one honest number.
Who owes you, and since when.
Buy anything, it sorts itself into departments, and the household shares one list.
Coverage and renewals, with a 30-day warning.
April without the ambush, deductions logged all year.
Want it, wait on it, then decide.
Business & Management
The work, when you run one. Off by default, one switch away.Clients and the pipeline, kept warm.
The money that hasn’t said yes yet.
What’s signed, worth what, ending when.
Business spending, filed to Tax in one tap.
Home & Living
Everything you own quietly asks for something.Room by room, with the serial and what it cost: the list an insurer asks for after a fire and nobody can write afterwards.
The house on cadences: filters, gutters, detectors, deep cleans, seeded with the classics.
Miles, maintenance by miles or months, and the true cost per mile.
Receipts that pay you back, everything expiring flagged 60 days out.
Watering on rails, the thirsty ones surface themselves.
Vet visits, vaccines and weight, due dates speak up on their own.
Ideas banked early, so nothing is bought twice.
The card that speaks for you: blood type, allergies, contacts, printable, masked until needed.
Tap staples as they run low.
People & Places
The parts of life other people are in.A child, a parent you look after, an animal: what they take, what is booked, where their papers are. One page each, kept on your account.
The people you live with on one page: who is home, the week, chores by person, the lists, who owes whom, and what everyone added lately.
A relationship keeper: cadences turn silence into a nudge, milestones flow into countdowns and the calendar, gift thoughts land on the shopping list.
Person to person on your own account, photos, group chats, no phone number required.
Dates, packing, budget and a day-by-day plan, with the countdown running until you leave and the day count while you’re there.
Ingredients that scale, and shop themselves into the week's list.
Want-to-go or been there, one-tap check-ins, star ratings, and a page per place. No accounts, no keys.
Who has your drill, whose book you have.
The life, in pictures and clips.
Mind & Knowledge
What you're studying, reading, keeping and being told.Where the will is, who holds power of attorney, which accounts exist and who should be told. Never a password: where a thing is, is what a person needs.
Who wrote, what about, and what you have not read — read only, over IMAP with an app password. Underneath every line: file it as a bill, a date, a task.
Cards you actually remember: spaced repetition, cloze gaps, typed answers, and a studio that makes a deck from a note or a page.
Films, series and games: what to watch, who recommended it, where it is, and what you thought afterwards.
The thread between everything: a task belongs to a project, a receipt to a car, a gift to a person. Open either end and the other is there, with a map of how your records actually connect.
The assistant that reads the other seventy-seven. Ask in plain words, get an answer built from your live records, and save it straight back into a note, a task or a plan.
The accounts you hold, never their passwords: where you signed up, what second factor guards it, which address recovers it, when you last used it, what it costs a year, and which to close when you are gone. It refuses a password if you try to keep one here.
The question, the options, which one you chose and why, how sure you were, and what happened. A review lands on the day you set, and the reviews add up to a calibration: how sure you tend to be when it goes well, and when it does not.
Clocks across zones and live weather for the places you care about.
Documents with expiry alarms and a 2FA index, masked until you deliberately reveal them.
Morning and evening briefings on your topics, with linked sources from real outlets.
Paste a link; your server fetches just the words. No scripts, no cookies, no trackers ever run, and saved pieces read offline.
Classes, grades, GPA, exams, the whole semester in one system.
Books and courses, actually finished.
Every file you have attached, in one list that says what each belongs to. No folders.
What the records add up to over months: the money, the training, the habits that held.
All of it on one page: the numbers, the pulse and your custom tiles, in one long view.
A conversation, not a command line.
One tap opens the loop: a pause sends, the answer speaks, the mic reopens. Talking over it interrupts, no wake word, no smart speaker, off unless you start it.
- Talk to it from Home, the conversation lives on your first screen.
- Natural device voices, quality-filtered; pick the one you like.
- Speech stays on your device, only the text of what you asked reaches the server.
Every device, every person, the truth.
Record-level sync with offline queuing and honest conflict handling. Sharing by explicit grant: sixteen groups, per person, view or edit, and nothing else crosses over.
- A sync-health panel shows exactly what happened, always.
- Shared rows show whose they are.
- Attachments never enter shares, by design.
Mornings, already read.
Twice a day the assistant writes you a briefing: one focus line and a few human rows about your actual day. Plus news editions on your topics, from real outlets, every headline linked.
- Push at your times, or no push at all.
- Archive an edition you want to keep.
- Read it, or have it read to you.
One pick, and everything moves with it.
Fourteen looks in three families. Each sets the mode, the accent, the wallpaper, the tile material, how close the tiles sit and what goes behind a system, all at once. The wallpapers are drawn in the browser and never stop moving, so nothing here is a picture waiting to be downloaded.
- Through the year, and they can follow the calendar.
- Rooms and places, for the rest of the year.
- Custom is still there, and one nudge puts you back on it.
Personal, down to the pixels.
Fourteen complete themes, each with a wallpaper of its own that is drawn rather than downloaded. Or Custom, and every dial yours: nineteen living scenes or a few seconds of your own video, forty-one tile materials with per-tile overrides, seventeen surfaces behind the work, any accent you like, an icon of your own on any system, a home screen you compose and a dock you arrange. Light and dark, on your schedule.
- Keep a look you like, and send it to a friend as a code.
- Saved swatches, the pairs you love, one tap away.
- Upload your own stills if the scenes aren't yours.
- Everything switches off, unused systems vanish, data intact.
The quiet details.
Miya Money, the finance app next door: budgets, debts, cash flow and net worth, included and on the same sign in, see it here
Photos and video, record a clip or add one, and it lives in albums and On This Day like any picture
Clips in Talk, send a video where a photo goes, to a person or the household
Zoom, per device, make everything larger or smaller the way a browser does, remembered on that device alone
Natural-language capture, “pay rent friday 9am” files itself
A key of your own, give any system or action a single letter, and it opens from anywhere
Back where you were, one move returns you to the last system you had open
Twelve steps of undo, the board remembers a run of changes, not just the last one
Corners to taste, rounded by default, square if you prefer the original tiles
A color per tile, keep the family color or give one tile its own, and it follows into the system
Groups you can drag, put the families in your own order from the stepped-back view
A bell that means something, what has changed since you last looked, by name, from the header
Training in one place, a session logged in Health is a session in Workouts, and the routines are shared
A recurrence engine, tasks, bills, income and maintenance repeat properly
Calendar subscriptions, paste any secret .ics address; outside calendars flow in
An inbound webhook, automation services drop tasks straight into your inbox
Undo on every delete, a toast offers it back
Right-click everything, every row has a menu; long-press on mobile
A change log, every save recorded, per-record history one tap away
Push digests, morning and evening, per device, at your times
Weekly backup emails, a full export in your inbox, yours to switch on
Private files, streamed through an authenticated endpoint, never a public URL
Sensitive flagging, vault, emergency card, cycle: masked until you ask
Works offline, opens without a connection, syncs on return
Real alarms, sound, snooze, repeat days
Full export, any time, the export is the guarantee
Read the list. Then go use it.
Every system above is in every account from minute one of the free 14 days.
No card · Every device · No ads, ever
One screen, and everything is on it.
miya.life opens on a board: every system you have switched on, grouped, colored, and saying what it holds before you open it. It is yours to arrange, and it fits a phone as readily as a desk.
Every system, in its own color.
A tile tells you the thing, not a number.
Yours to move, resize and put away.
Tiles that are not systems at all.
The ones you open the most.
A key of your own.
Rounded, or square.
Any tile, any color.
All seventy-eight. A few on the board.
Kept up, not chased.
The last thing, ticked.
If it has a date, it is in the calendar.
One history, wherever you logged it.
Twenty-eight colors, three densities, two themes.
Most of it takes one move.
The point of keeping everything in one place is that things stop needing to be opened at all. Pay a bill by typing its name, tick the top task from the board, and let a rule handle the rest.
Type it, and it is done.
It speaks your language.
One tap from the board.
When this happens, do that.
Everything that moved, in one place.
A system beside the one you are in.
Start here, carry on there.
Seventy-eight systems, seventy-eight moments they exist for.
Every system here earns its place by catching something specific. This is that something, for all seventy-eight.
The thing you will definitely remember
You said it out loud in the car. It never made it anywhere.
Two calendars, one Saturday
Work says one thing, home says another, and you find out at nine in the morning.
Day four, and the streak quietly died
Nothing broke. You just stopped noticing.
Two hours gone, nothing finished
The work was open the whole time. So was everything else.
The goal you set in January
You still want it. You just have not looked at it since.
A big thing with no first step
It sits there as one intimidating word instead of a list you could start today.
Wait, that is next week?
The thing you were looking forward to arrives with no run-up at all.
The alarm on the phone that stayed on the charger
Or the one you set for the wrong day, which is worse.
The note you know you wrote
It is in one of four apps, under a title you cannot remember.
The doctor asks when it started
You say “a few months?” and guess, because nothing was ever written down.
Another week, and you cannot say where it went
Busy and productive feel identical from the inside.
The life you meant to build
It exists as a feeling, which is not something you can act on.
Did I take it this morning?
You are standing there holding the bottle, and you genuinely cannot remember.
Your cycle, exiled to some other app
One more login, one more stranger’s server holding something this private. It deserves to stay yours alone, beside everything else you track.
You will start tomorrow
You have been starting tomorrow for about two years.
It is four in the afternoon and that is your first glass
You are not thirsty. You are just running on empty and calling it tired.
When did I actually stop eating?
The window only works if something is counting, and you are not.
Where did it actually go?
The balance dropped and no single purchase explains it.
The subscriptions you forgot you had
One you are sure you cancelled, one you never noticed starting, both charging quietly every month.
The invoice nobody ever paid
You did the work in March. Nobody chased it in April.
Three bags home, and the milk is not in them
The one thing you actually went out for.
The policy number you need at the roadside
It is in an email from 2021, and you are standing in the rain on nine percent battery.
The deductible receipt you held in March
By April it is gone, and you pay tax on money you already spent.
The filter, the detector battery, the gutters
No app owns the house, so the house quietly owns you.
At the shop, asked when it was last serviced
You say “maybe last year”, and pay for something you might not need.
It broke a week after the cover ended
The receipt existed. Nobody knew the cover ran out on the ninth.
You water it when it looks upset
By then it has been thirsty for a week.
At the vet, asked when the last shots were
The card is in a drawer, in a folder, somewhere, and the vet is waiting.
The perfect gift you found in June
By December it is gone from your head, and you buy a candle instead.
Someone needs your details and you cannot speak
Blood type, allergies, medications, who to call. All of it in your head, which is the problem.
Six months, and neither of you meant that
Nobody decided to drift. It just happened while everything else was loud.
The message you meant to answer
You read it, you thought about it, and you never replied.
The booking is in an email somewhere
Flight here, hotel there, the rental in a PDF you cannot find at the desk.
The recipe you screenshotted
It is in a camera roll with four thousand other photos.
The place someone told you about
You said you would remember it. You did not remember it.
The syllabus said week nine
Nothing is due for ages, and then everything is due at once.
You already own that book
You have owned it twice, actually.
An hour of scrolling and nothing learned
The feed decided what mattered, and it did not decide for you.
The passport that expired before the trip
Five months left is fine, until the airline wants six.
It is three in the morning where they are
You realise about a second after the phone starts ringing.
Which client owes you what
It is in your head, and your head is also doing the actual work.
The deal that went quiet
Nobody said no. Nobody said anything at all.
The contract that renewed itself
Auto-renew is only a surprise when nobody is watching the date.
The business receipt in a coat pocket
Deductible right up until it goes through the wash.
Same weight, same reps, six months running
It feels like progress because it feels like effort.
You bought it twice
Once because you wanted it, once as a gift you already owned.
The thing you lent and never saw again
The drill, the book, the fifty-six dollars. You remember lending it. Not to whom.
Four jars of cumin and no rice
You buy what you can picture, not what is missing.
The photo you cannot find
Somewhere in eleven thousand of them.
The appointment you booked in March
It was confirmed by email, and the email was buried under two thousand others.
The receipt you definitely kept
You photographed it. Now it is somewhere between eleven thousand other photographs.
The morning that starts with a scroll
Ten minutes of deciding what to do before doing any of it.
The alarm you set three weeks ago
Something is going to go off. You have no idea what, or when.
The month you cannot account for
The money went somewhere. The training stopped at some point.
The question no single app can answer
"How am I actually doing?" needs eleven tabs and a spreadsheet.
The week you cannot remember
Someone asks what you got done. You genuinely could not say.
The answer that is in your own records, somewhere
You know you wrote it down. You do not know whether it was a note, a task or a message eight months ago.
The lunch you will not weigh, measure or type out
By the time you have found the food, picked the portion and typed it in, the meal is over and you have stopped bothering.
The question of whether you can actually afford it
The balance says yes. The bills that have not left yet say no, and they are in a different app you have not opened.
The receipt that belongs to the car you are selling
The service history is in one system, the warranty in another, the photographs in a third, and the buyer is waiting.
The thing you will definitely remember
- What it holds. Projects, boards, priorities, and natural-language capture: “dentist tuesday 3pm” files itself.
- The parts that matter. Natural-language capture · Boards & subtasks · Repeats that behave
- Why it stops this happening. A line lands in the inbox in seconds, and gets sorted when you actually have a minute.
Two calendars, one Saturday
- What it holds. Events, time blocks, .ics import and export, and subscriptions to any Google, Outlook or iCloud calendar.
- The parts that matter. Day · week · month · Time blocks · Subscribe any calendar
- Why it stops this happening. Every calendar you subscribe to lands on one grid, so the clash shows up days early.
Day four, and the streak quietly died
- What it holds. Streaks with mercy, twice-a-day targets, and honest history.
- The parts that matter. Streaks with mercy · ×2-a-day targets · Honest history
- Why it stops this happening. Habits keeps the streak visible, so slipping is a decision instead of an accident.
Two hours gone, nothing finished
- What it holds. Pomodoro and stopwatch, with the minutes logged to the parts of your life they belong to.
- The parts that matter. Pomodoro + stopwatch · Minutes land where they belong
- Why it stops this happening. A timer with one task attached, so the session has an edge and the day has a record.
The goal you set in January
- What it holds. Targets with numbers and dates, moved by real activity.
- The parts that matter. A sparkline of every update · On pace or behind, computed against the deadline · Numbers and dates
- Why it stops this happening. Goals carry a target, a current number and a due date, and resurface before they go stale.
A big thing with no first step
- What it holds. Efforts with milestones and a finish line.
- The parts that matter. Milestones · A visible finish line
- Why it stops this happening. Projects break into milestones and tasks, so the next move is always visible.
Wait, that is next week?
- What it holds. Days until, and days since.
- The parts that matter. Until and since · Pinned where you'll see them
- Why it stops this happening. Countdowns keep the date in sight, so anticipation starts long before the day.
The alarm on the phone that stayed on the charger
- What it holds. Real rings: sound, snooze, repeat days.
- The parts that matter. Real rings · Repeat days · Snooze that behaves
- Why it stops this happening. Alarms live with the rest of your day, on whatever device you actually have with you.
The note you know you wrote
- What it holds. A notebook where notes link to each other.
- The parts that matter. Notes link to notes · Fast capture · Search everything
- Why it stops this happening. One place for notes, with search that reaches every system, not just this one.
The doctor asks when it started
- What it holds. A daily page with prompts, mood and a streak, private by default.
- The parts that matter. Daily prompts · Mood over time · Private by default
- Why it stops this happening. Dated entries and moods turn a year of guessing into a sentence you can actually say.
Another week, and you cannot say where it went
- What it holds. Ten minutes that buys the week back.
- The parts that matter. A guided ten minutes · The week, planned on purpose
- Why it stops this happening. A short weekly pass over what moved and what did not, so the next week starts on purpose.
The life you meant to build
- What it holds. The future, kept where you'll see it daily.
- The parts that matter. Seen every day · Reorder by drag
- Why it stops this happening. A board you can actually see, sitting beside the goals that would get you there.
Did I take it this morning?
- What it holds. Meds checklists, exercise log, measurements and trends over time.
- The parts that matter. Meds that know what's taken · Appointments · Trends, not guilt
- Why it stops this happening. Each dose is ticked as it is taken, and the nudge stops the moment it is.
Your cycle, exiled to some other app
- What it holds. Period and phase tracking that stays yours, predicted, never sold.
- The parts that matter. Phases, predicted · Symptoms over time · Never sold, never shared
- Why it stops this happening. Cycle is one of the seventy-eight systems here: private, predicted, never sold.
You will start tomorrow
- What it holds. Guided breathing and a sit timer, with a running total of quiet minutes.
- The parts that matter. Guided breathing · A simple sit timer
- Why it stops this happening. A timer, a streak and no lecture, sitting where the rest of your day already is.
It is four in the afternoon and that is your first glass
- What it holds. Water first, coffee counts for what it's worth.
- The parts that matter. Water first · Honest about coffee
- Why it stops this happening. One tap a glass, with a target that suits you rather than a number from an advert.
When did I actually stop eating?
- What it holds. The timer that runs while you don't eat.
- The parts that matter. Windows you choose · History, plainly kept
- Why it stops this happening. The clock runs itself, so the fast is a fact instead of a rough estimate.
Where did it actually go?
- What it holds. Cash, runway, and spending by category. Import OFX or CSV; merchants sort themselves.
- The parts that matter. OFX / CSV import · Merchants auto-sort · Runway, always visible
- Why it stops this happening. Accounts, transactions and categories in one place, so the month has an explanation.
The subscriptions you forgot you had
- What it holds. Recurring money, seen before it leaves.
- The parts that matter. Seen before it leaves · Repeats scheduled once
- Why it stops this happening. Every recurring charge in one list with its real monthly total, and a warning before each renewal.
The invoice nobody ever paid
- What it holds. Who owes you, and since when.
- The parts that matter. Who owes you · Since when · Marked paid in a tap
- Why it stops this happening. Invoices track sent, due and overdue, so the chase is a task instead of a memory.
Three bags home, and the milk is not in them
- What it holds. Buy anything, it sorts itself into departments, and the household shares one list.
- The parts that matter. Sorts into departments · One list, whole household
- Why it stops this happening. The list builds itself from what ran out, and sorts the way the store is laid out.
The answer that is in your own records, somewhere
- What it holds. An assistant wired into every system, reading what you actually keep.
- The parts that matter. Reads your live records · Answers save back into notes and tasks
- Why it stops this happening. Asking is faster than remembering which system you filed it in.
The lunch you will not weigh, measure or type out
- What it holds. What you ate, with calories and protein, from a photograph or a barcode.
- The parts that matter. Photo to estimate · Barcodes scan · Estimates labelled as estimates
- Why it stops this happening. Logging a meal takes a photograph rather than five minutes of typing.
The question of whether you can actually afford it
- What it holds. Budgets, spending, debts, cash flow and net worth, on the same sign in.
- The parts that matter. Opens inside the app · Bank sync optional, per bank · Included in every plan
- Why it stops this happening. The position and the day sit behind one login, so the answer is one screen away.
The receipt that belongs to the car you are selling
- What it holds. What belongs to what: tasks to projects, receipts to cars, gifts to people.
- The parts that matter. Both directions · One tap across · Nothing to set up
- Why it stops this happening. Filing something where it belongs is all the setup there is.
The receipt you definitely kept
- The moment it catches. You photographed it. Now it is somewhere between eleven thousand other photographs.
- What miya.life does about it. It sits on the bill it paid, and in one list that says so.
- Always on. This one has no switch: it is part of every account from the first minute.
The morning that starts with a scroll
- The moment it catches. Ten minutes of deciding what to do before doing any of it.
- What miya.life does about it. One thing, named. Then the evening tells you what moved and stages tomorrow.
- Always on. This one has no switch: it is part of every account from the first minute.
The alarm you set three weeks ago
- The moment it catches. Something is going to go off. You have no idea what, or when.
- What miya.life does about it. Everything set to interrupt you, in one list, in time order.
- Always on. This one has no switch: it is part of every account from the first minute.
The month you cannot account for
- The moment it catches. The money went somewhere. The training stopped at some point.
- What miya.life does about it. What the records add up to, over months rather than days.
- Always on. This one has no switch: it is part of every account from the first minute.
The question no single app can answer
- The moment it catches. "How am I actually doing?" needs eleven tabs and a spreadsheet.
- What miya.life does about it. All of it on one page, drawn from what you already kept.
- Always on. This one has no switch: it is part of every account from the first minute.
The week you cannot remember
- The moment it catches. Someone asks what you got done. You genuinely could not say.
- What miya.life does about it. Pick any stretch of days and read what happened in it.
- Always on. This one has no switch: it is part of every account from the first minute.
The policy number you need at the roadside
- What it holds. Coverage and renewals, with a 30-day warning.
- The parts that matter. Every policy, one place · A 30-day heads-up
- Why it stops this happening. Policies, numbers, renewals and documents on one screen, ready when it has gone wrong.
The deductible receipt you held in March
- What it holds. April without the ambush, deductions logged all year.
- The parts that matter. Deductions as they happen · Quarterly checkpoints
- Why it stops this happening. One tap files an expense as deductible the day it happens, receipt attached.
The filter, the detector battery, the gutters
- What it holds. The house on cadences: filters, gutters, detectors, deep cleans, seeded with the classics.
- The parts that matter. The house on cadences · Seeded with the classics
- Why it stops this happening. Home Care ships with the usual rhythms, so most upkeep is confirming rather than typing.
At the shop, asked when it was last serviced
- What it holds. Miles, maintenance by miles or months, and the true cost per mile.
- The parts that matter. By miles or months · Fuel log → MPG · True cost per mile
- Why it stops this happening. Service history, mileage and every renewal date, so the answer takes one tap.
It broke a week after the cover ended
- What it holds. Receipts that pay you back, everything expiring flagged 60 days out.
- The parts that matter. Receipts attached · Flagged 60 days early
- Why it stops this happening. Warranties flags anything expiring sixty days out, while the claim is still free.
You water it when it looks upset
- What it holds. Watering on rails, the thirsty ones surface themselves.
- The parts that matter. Watering cadences · The thirsty ones speak up
- Why it stops this happening. A watering rhythm per plant, so the sad droop stops being the reminder.
At the vet, asked when the last shots were
- What it holds. Vet visits, vaccines and weight, due dates speak up on their own.
- The parts that matter. Vaccines with due dates · Vet visits → Finance
- Why it stops this happening. Vaccinations, weights and visits with their dates, and what is due next.
The perfect gift you found in June
- What it holds. Ideas banked early, so nothing is bought twice.
- The parts that matter. Idea → bought → given · Nothing bought twice
- Why it stops this happening. The idea is saved against the person, and comes back when the date is close.
Someone needs your details and you cannot speak
- What it holds. The card that speaks for you: blood type, allergies, contacts, printable, masked until needed.
- The parts that matter. Speaks when you can't · Masked until needed · Printable
- Why it stops this happening. One card holding exactly that, so the information does not depend on you being able to talk.
Six months, and neither of you meant that
- What it holds. A reach-out list sorted by who has waited longest, one tap to log that you talked (with a note if you want one), birthdays counted to their next occurrence, and groups by relationship.
- The parts that matter. Reach out, worst first · One tap logs the chat · Birthdays that surface
- Why it stops this happening. People shows who you have not spoken to lately, before it becomes a year.
The message you meant to answer
- What it holds. Person to person on your own account, photos, group chats, no phone number required.
- The parts that matter. On your own account · Group chats · No phone number
- Why it stops this happening. The reply becomes a task instead of a guilty feeling you carry around.
The booking is in an email somewhere
- What it holds. Dates, destination, budget and packing, plus a day-by-day itinerary with timed stops and an Any-day pool for ideas that have no slot yet. During the trip it says Day 3 of 7 and opens on today.
- The parts that matter. A day-by-day plan · Packing copies from the last trip · The countdown, then the day count
- Why it stops this happening. One trip page holding every booking, document and day, the plan offline when you land.
The recipe you screenshotted
- What it holds. Ingredients that scale, and shop themselves into the week's list.
- The parts that matter. Scales to your table · The week, planned · List builds itself
- Why it stops this happening. Paste a link or a photo and it becomes a real recipe with its ingredients ready for the list.
The place someone told you about
- What it holds. Every place as want-to-go or been there, with one-tap check-ins that keep a visit log, star ratings, favorites, and a full page per place: address, notes, photos, directions. No accounts, no keys.
- The parts that matter. Want-to-go and been · A visit log with notes · Ratings, favorites and export
- Why it stops this happening. Saved places with a note on why, so recommendations survive the conversation.
The syllabus said week nine
- What it holds. Classes, grades, GPA, exams, the whole semester in one system.
- The parts that matter. Weighted categories · A live GPA · Due work reaches Home
- Why it stops this happening. Terms, courses, assignments and grades in one place, counting down honestly.
You already own that book
- What it holds. Books and courses, actually finished.
- The parts that matter. Reading · watching · learning · Actually finished
- Why it stops this happening. What you own, what you lent out and what you are part way through, on one shelf.
An hour of scrolling and nothing learned
- What it holds. Morning and evening briefings on your topics, with linked sources from real outlets.
- The parts that matter. Your topics only · Real outlets, linked · Archive an edition
- Why it stops this happening. Your own sources, gathered into an edition you can finish.
The passport that expired before the trip
- What it holds. Documents with expiry alarms and a 2FA index, masked until you deliberately reveal them.
- The parts that matter. Expiry alarms · Masked by default · Never in shares
- Why it stops this happening. Vault watches every document’s expiry, so the renewal starts months early.
It is three in the morning where they are
- What it holds. Clocks across zones and live weather for the places you care about.
- The parts that matter. Zones at a glance · Weather where it matters
- Why it stops this happening. The clocks that matter to you, on one screen, before you dial.
Which client owes you what
- What it holds. Clients with a lead-to-active pipeline, follow-up dates that surface when due, and every client's invoices rolled up beside their name.
- The parts that matter. Lead, active, past pipeline · Follow-ups that surface · Per-client money rollups
- Why it stops this happening. Clients, projects, invoices and expenses in one place instead of five.
The deal that went quiet
- What it holds. Every opportunity gets a name, a value, and a stage: prospect, proposal out, won or lost. One button advances it; the page keeps score with open pipeline, won this year, and a win rate that stays honest. Part of the opt-in Business section, off unless you run one.
- The parts that matter. Prospect to proposal to won · Pipeline and win rate · Late close dates flagged
- Why it stops this happening. A pipeline with stages and next steps, so quiet becomes visible instead of comfortable.
The contract that renewed itself
- What it holds. MSAs, NDAs, SOWs and retainers with signed and end dates, value, and an auto-renew flag. Anything ending inside 45 days rises to the top, and auto-renewing ones say plainly: this is the cancel window. Part of the opt-in Business section.
- The parts that matter. Every agreement on file · Ending-soon strip · The cancel window, named
- Why it stops this happening. Every agreement with its term, its notice period and its renewal, flagged in time.
The business receipt in a coat pocket
- What it holds. Vendors, categories, optional client, and a billable flag for costs you re-invoice. The To Tax button files any expense as a deduction with the category mapped, once, so April is a button instead of an archaeology dig. Part of the opt-in Business section.
- The parts that matter. Month and year totals · One-tap filing into Tax · Billable, so it gets re-invoiced
- Why it stops this happening. Log it in seconds with the photo attached, and file it to tax with one tap.
Same weight, same reps, six months running
- What it holds. Write a routine once, exercises and all, and from then on a finished workout is one tap on Log it. Lines like “Bench press x3x8 @135” parse into sets, reps and weight; plain lines stay plain. The week counter keeps you honest.
- The parts that matter. Reusable routines · One-tap logging · Workouts and minutes this week
- Why it stops this happening. Sets and weights recorded, so the next session has something to beat.
You bought it twice
- What it holds. Park a want instead of buying it. Every item wears the number of days you’ve waited, because most wants expire on their own. One tap for Bought or Pass, a running total of what you’d spend if you caved, and a counter of money kept.
- The parts that matter. The anti-impulse list · Bought or Pass, one tap · Money kept, counted
- Why it stops this happening. Wants live in one list with the reason and the price, separate from what you bought.
The thing you lent and never saw again
- What it holds. The drill, the book, the folding table, the $40. Small loans evaporate from memory in about a week; this list doesn’t. Both directions, optional back-by dates, overdue flags, and one tap on Returned closes the loop into a Settled archive.
- The parts that matter. Lent and borrowed, both ways · Back-by dates · Settled archive
- Why it stops this happening. What went where and when, in both directions, so asking is not an accusation.
Four jars of cumin and no rice
- What it holds. Keep the staples listed and tap each one as it runs down: stocked, low, out. One button sweeps everything low or out straight onto the Shopping list, so shopping day stops being a walk around the kitchen opening cabinets.
- The parts that matter. Tap to cycle status · The usual staples, seeded · One-button send to Shopping
- Why it stops this happening. Pantry knows what ran out and sweeps it straight onto the shopping list.
The photo you cannot find
- What it holds. Add photos from the camera roll; they shrink automatically and live inside your system like everything else. Albums, favorites, captions, a lightbox, and the part that matters: On This Day resurfaces photos from today’s date in earlier years.
- The parts that matter. On This Day, every day · A timeline grouped by month · Select many: album, favorite, delete
- Why it stops this happening. The photos you deliberately keep, attached to the thing they belong to.
The appointment you booked in March
- What it holds. Every dated commitment in one place: medical, work, business, financial, personal, family, social, education, home, vehicle, government and travel. Each one carries a time, a reminder, a repeat rule, and its own notes.
- The parts that matter. Twelve types, one list · Reminders that arrive early · Repeats for annual renewals
- Why it stops this happening. Every dated commitment with its own reminder, so it finds you before the day arrives.
Every system, in its own color.
- Seven groups. The day, health, money, home, people, what you are learning, and the work if you run one.
- One color each. It carries into the system itself: headings, buttons, even the ring on a field you are typing in.
- Step back. Pinch, or hold Ctrl and scroll, and the board collapses to the groups so you can cross seventy-eight systems in one gesture.
A tile tells you the thing, not a number.
- The item itself. “Dentist, Thursday 3pm” beats “two coming”.
- From your own records. Nothing is invented, and nothing is fetched from anywhere else.
- Your choice of number. Tasks can show open, due today, or overdue. Finance cash, in, or out.
Yours to move, resize and put away.
- Four sizes. A small square, two across, two down, or a square of four.
- Drag anything. A tile within its group, into another group, or a whole group into a new position.
- Put a group away. It leaves the board and keeps working everywhere else. One tap brings it back.
Tiles that are not systems at all.
- Clocks and weather. A clock for any of twenty-six cities, and the weather for any city you name.
- Anything you keep. A countdown, a note, a photo, or a search saved as a question.
- As many as you like. In the Custom band, or dragged into whichever family suits them, kept exactly where you drop them.
A key of your own.
- One letter, one system. Press it anywhere in the app and you are there.
- Or an action. Add a task, start focus, capture a thought, log a glass of water.
- Never while you type. It stays out of the way inside a field, or while search is open.
Rounded, or square.
- Your call. Appearance has both, and the choice reaches every tile at once.
- Custom tiles too. Clocks, weather, notes and photos take the same corners.
- Instant. No reload, no re-doing your board.
Any tile, any color.
- Independent of the family. Finance can be neon while the rest of Finances stays emerald.
- It travels. The color follows into the system itself, its dock icon and its menus.
- Undoable. Like every board change, one tap puts it back.
All seventy-eight. A few on the board.
- You have all of them. Seventy-three are on and usable from the first minute when you keep them all; a new account starts with seven and the rest wake as their data arrives; the five that wait, the four work systems and News, switch on when you choose them.
- A preset only arranges. It puts a handful on the front so you are not facing seventy-eight tiles at once.
- Change your mind freely. The choice is undoable, and you can skip it and arrange your own.
Kept up, not chased.
- Forgiving on purpose. A streak that punishes one bad week just makes quitting sensible.
- Said once. Three days, a week, a month. Then it leaves you alone.
- Real numbers only. “You moved 23 things along this week”, drawn from what you actually did.
The last thing, ticked.
- Tied to something real. Nothing is said unless something actually happened.
- Once each. No repeats, no confetti for opening the app.
- Quiet. A line that appears and goes, not a screen you have to dismiss.
If it has a date, it is in the calendar.
- Thirty kinds of thing. Anything with a date on it from any system turns up on the day.
- Labelled. Each row says what it is, and opens the system it came from.
- Birthdays repeat. Every year, rather than once in 1990.
One history, wherever you logged it.
- Log it anywhere. A session logged in Health shows in Workouts, and the other way round.
- Routines match. Build push, pull and legs once; start them from either screen.
- Counted properly. Sessions, hours, averages, how often a week, and each movement by name.
The ones you open the most.
- A band at the front. Beside Custom, before the groups.
- A shortcut, not a move. The system stays exactly where you keep it as well.
- One tap to set. From the tile’s own menu, on right click or from its control while editing.
Twenty-eight colors, three densities, two themes.
- Colour. Twenty hues, each shown as it will look in dark and in light before you pick it.
- Density and size. Comfortable, cosy or compact, with five text sizes.
- Or none of it. Classic restores the side panel layout exactly as it was.
It speaks your language.
- Ask in your own words. Write to Miya in any language and the answer comes back in the same one. Nothing to set first.
- The interface too. A language switcher sits on every screen, so the buttons and labels change with you.
- Spoken, where your device has a voice. Read-aloud picks a voice matching the language of the sentence, and changes voice mid-answer if the language does.
- Your own words stay your own. What you write is stored exactly as you typed it. Nothing is translated behind your back.
Type it, and it is done.
- One box. Ctrl K, or simply start typing while you are on the board.
- It runs, not just finds. Pay a bill, add to the list, make a task, start a timer, log a glass, jot a note.
- Undo included. Every command can be taken back from the message that follows it.
One tap from the board.
- The obvious action. Tick the top task, mark the next bill paid, log water, mark shopping got.
- You stay where you are. The board never leaves the screen.
- Always undoable. Nothing here is a one-way door.
When this happens, do that.
- Thirty things to watch. Tasks, bills, transactions, health numbers, runs, focus sessions, cards, intentions, chores, plants, papers, people and more: added, finished, or a date coming up inside a window you set.
- Only if. The wording contains a word, the amount is at least or under a figure, the day is one you chose. A gate not set is a gate open.
- Fourteen things to do. A task, a shopping item, a note, a notification, an event, a countdown, a habit tick, a health number, a journal line, one of the week’s three, a focus timer, a tag, completing the task it points at, or a call to a URL of yours.
- Never invisible. Each rule records what it made and where, and never fires twice for the same record.
- One tap away. The Rules button sits on What changed, right beside the receipts it leaves.
Everything that moved, in one place.
- Across everything. Tasks, events, notes, bills, shopping, money, photos, people, documents.
- Newest first. Grouped by day, with a badge for anything you have not seen.
- On the icon too. Installed on a phone, the count shows on the app icon.
A system beside the one you are in.
- A real one. Not a picture: the second pane works fully, with its own views and filters.
- Sized how you like. Drag the edge, or snap it to a third, a half, or two thirds.
- Pairs remembered. The last two you had open can be reopened together.
Start here, carry on there.
- Handoff. Leave something half done and the other device offers to pick it up.
- A running timer. A focus session or a fast shows on every screen until it ends.
- Ambient. The time and the few things that need you, readable from across a room.
Included in every account. Switches on or off; your data waits either way.