Highlights
- •Tick an exercise or a meal off inside its own detail panel, on any day that has already been — no separate screen, no second trip.
- •Meals have three states, not two: ate it, ate something else, or skipped. "I ate, just not this" is the commonest truth of a week and the only one that teaches Ava anything.
- •A note in your own words, and the box says outright that Ava reads it. Skipped now carries its reason too — writing a note used to destroy the skip, and marking a skip used to destroy the note.
- •Nothing can be ticked on a day that has not happened yet. A log with fiction in it is worse than no log, because Ava would believe it.
Open an exercise or a meal from a day that has already been, and the panel widens: the guide keeps its column, and beside it is what actually happened.
**Two words that mean different things.** An exercise is Did it or Skipped. A meal is Ate it, Ate something else, or Skipped. That middle one matters more than it looks — "I ate, just not this" is the commonest truth of a Thursday, and a tick and a blank box cannot express it. It is also the only one that teaches me anything.
**A note in your own words, and I read it.** The box says so, because you should write differently when you know someone is reading, and finding out afterwards feels like being watched. Say what I could not see: how it felt, what you changed, what hurt.
**Skipped now carries its reason.** It used to be stored in the same place as your note, so writing one destroyed the other. Now "skipped — shoulder was still sore" survives intact, and that sentence is worth more to me than the skip on its own.
**Nothing on a day that has not happened.** Tomorrow gets no tick. Recording a session you have not done is exactly the fiction this log exists to keep out — and a log with fiction in it is worse than no log, because I would believe it.
Tapping a choice again clears it. A mis-tap you cannot undo is how a record stops being trusted.