A photo of the mess, or one honest sentence about it. Unbig writes the plan, says what finished looks like, and keeps the next step small enough to actually do. Built for ADHD minds and anyone stuck.
iOS · Android · coming soon
So much to do. Where do I even start?
Why Unbig exists
It was never about laziness.
Big tasks don't fail because you stopped caring. They fail because you can't see the finish line, and the next step isn't obvious. Every other app answers that with a streak. We answer it with a smaller step.
So Unbig starts with something you can already do: point your camera at the problem, or write one sentence about it. It writes a plan of about twelve steps sorted into days, with a line describing what done looks like, and hands you the first three. On a rough day, ask for just one.
The mountain was never the problem. It only needed to be broken into pieces you could pick up.
Most days: under a minute in the app.
01
Photograph the thing, mess and all — or write a sentence. Unbig names the project and describes what done looks like.
02
About twelve steps of a few minutes each, sorted into days you can face. Start now or save it for later.
03
Each day gives you three steps and never a fourth. Finish them and the day is closed. Nothing nags.
04
Close the day by showing what changed — a second photo, or a sentence. The day ends on the change, not a ticked box.
Tap a step in the preview. The ring fills as you go, and the day wraps up on its own once all three are done.
The photo is supposed to be honest. A half-finished corner is exactly what Unbig wants to see.
Some work has nothing to photograph, and some of it is nobody's business. A sentence gets the same plan. We never ask to see the work itself.
Projects wait in the Journey tab. There's no streak to lose.
tap one ↓
Tuesday
Three small steps waiting. Start anywhere.
Rough day? Ask for just one.
The five kinds of stuck we hear about most.
The most common one. A living room turned back into somewhere you actually want to sit.
Papers, cables, and the pile you stopped looking at, cleared back to a usable surface.
An overgrown bed brought back under control, one handful of weeds at a time.
The boxes you keep meaning to deal with, sorted into keep, donate, and toss.
The application. The tax return. The thing you'd rather nobody saw. One sentence gets the same plan, and you close each day by saying what changed.
The goal was never a perfect room. It's a Tuesday evening that feels light.
A few minutes a day · See real progress · Rest is allowed