One app. Your whole life. Neat.
Sneat.app quietly keeps track of the people, plans, money and things you juggle every day — so the small stuff stops needing you. Start with one thing. It gets better the more of your life it touches.
🆓 Forever free for the standard version. · 🔒 Private by design · 📱 Works on your phone · 🧾 No card
You already know this bit
The calendar's in one app. The money's in another. The lists are in a chat. The warranty is in a drawer, and the thing you promised your mum is in your head — which is the least reliable place any of it could possibly be.
None of these apps know about each other. So you are the bit in the middle that makes them work: copying, remembering, reminding, chasing. That's the job nobody applied for, and it runs all day.
The problem was never that you needed a better to-do list. It's that you needed the pieces to talk to each other.
An ordinary Tuesday
None of it is dramatic. That's rather the point — this is what it looks like when the small stuff stops needing you.
The bins went out. You didn't ask, and nobody was nagged. It was simply somebody else's turn, and they knew.
that was Who's actually doing it
Your drill came home from Dave's after five weeks. Neither of you had to be weird about it. You didn't send the text — you never send the text.
that was Borrow & lend
The car insurance renewal appeared on your calendar — three weeks before it quietly renews itself, rather than the morning after it did.
that was Everything you own
You found out your sister's birthday is Thursday, on a day when you can still do something about it. You didn't remember. You didn't have to.
that was The people who matter
The money for February's gig tickets found its way back to you. Nobody did any maths. Nobody had to ask three adults for money.
that was Who owes who
And somewhere in all of that, the budget updated itself. The tickets coming back, the renewal landing, the shop you did on the way home — you didn't tell it a single one of those things.
that was Where the money goes
It was a Tuesday. Nothing happened. That was the point.
Not yet, though. The pieces are real; the quiet wiring between them is what we're building now. What's real today →
Three small things
Nobody adopts a life system. People adopt one thing that fixes one annoyance — so every piece has to earn its place by itself, before any of the clever bits matter.
Dave borrowed your screwdriver in March. It is now May.
Today
You have written the text four times and deleted it four times. It's a screwdriver. It's not about the screwdriver. You buy another screwdriver.
With Sneat.app
It came up with him last week — gently, in passing, and not from you. It was by the door on Saturday. Neither of you had to be weird about it.
🪜 Borrow & lend →Designed, not built
Your sister's birthday is Thursday. You know this. You have known this for thirty-one years.
Today
It lives in your head right up until the moment it doesn't, and then you are typing happy birthday!! at nine in the evening like you didn't mean it.
With Sneat.app
It was already there — she is in your contacts, and that is simply a fact about her. You heard about it on Sunday, while you could still do something about it.
📅 When things happen →Live now
It dies on a Sunday. It was always going to be a Sunday.
Today
Was it still under warranty? You genuinely cannot say. Finding out means the drawer, then the inbox, then giving up and paying someone.
With Sneat.app
You knew in ten seconds, because the receipt has been attached to the machine since the day it arrived. It was under warranty. It cost nothing.
📦 Everything you own →Live now
How it fits together
Two things sit underneath everything else: the people in your life, and when things happen. Every other piece hangs off those two — which is why adding a second piece makes the first one better, instead of just giving you more to maintain.
The spineSneat Calendar
Everything in your life happens at a time. This is where they all finally meet.
The spineSneat Contacts
Not an address book. The people your life actually involves — and how.
Everything else hangs off those two:
Where this came from
Dan built tools for his dev team all day, then came home and watched Tala run the entire household out of seven browser tabs. It took him an embarrassingly long time to notice these were the same problem.
Dan: “You know… I literally built something for this.”
Tala: “Then why am I still doing this?”
Illustrations, not screenshots. The Rushmores are fictional — the chaos isn't. Read the seven-panel story →
What's real today
Most sites this shape won't tell you this, so here it is plainly: ten of the twelve things on this site you can open and use today. They work. People use them.
What they mostly don't do yet is talk to each other. The quiet magic on this page — where your calendar fills itself in from your contacts and your paperwork — is the part we're building now. It's the whole reason Sneat.app exists, and it's the part that isn't finished.
We'd rather you heard it here than found out later. Every piece on this site carries a label saying which it is, and we don't move a label until the thing is genuinely there.
Why we won't sell you out
An app like this only works if you hand it the details of your life. So the honest question isn't whether we promise to look after them — everyone promises that. It's what we'd have to do to make money if we didn't.
"It's free!"
Which means it isn't. Something has to pay for it, and the only thing in the room is you: your attention, your habits, your address book, quietly resold to people who want to reach you.
"It's free. You're just the customer."
The standard version is free forever. If you want more, you pay us money for it, like a shop. That's the entire business model — the same boring one Apple uses. We sell the tool, not the person holding it.
And that's the bit that should actually reassure you: it isn't that we're nice. We're selling an app you'd trust with your whole life. Selling your data would destroy the only thing we have to sell. Our incentives and yours point the same way — which lasts longer than a promise does.
Everything lives in a private space you own and share with exactly who you choose. There's no feed, and nobody to perform for.
Export it, delete it, walk away. A life's worth of small facts is exactly what you should never be locked out of — or into.
It reads the receipt and tidies the details, then asks before it changes anything. Quiet help, not a co-pilot with opinions.
The bonus nobody mentions
We're not going to invent a number for what you'll save, because we'd be making it up. Here's the honest version — the small leaks that quietly close.
Pick the one bit of your life that annoys you most and let it go first. It gets better the more of your life it touches — but it has to be worth it on day one, or none of the rest matters.
Start now🆓 Forever free for the standard version.