You have a job, and you have this. This one has real clients, real deadlines and real money in it — and it lives in the gaps: evenings, a Saturday morning, the forty minutes before dinner.
Business software assumes this is your whole day and asks you to configure accordingly. Personal apps assume none of it earns money and offer you a checklist. Neither survives the actual shape of it: two lives, one head, and a hard stop at 8am.
The real cost isn’t admin, it’s re-entry. Every time you come back after four days away you spend twenty minutes remembering where you were, and that twenty minutes is most of the time you had.
You don’t need more capacity. You need to stop paying the cost of coming back.
The day job’s projects and this one’s, side by side, each showing only the panels it needs.
Standard ⟶Today, the timer, the last note, and the four things you picked. No reconstruction.
Standard ⟶Reports come looking for you, rhythms appear the morning they matter, and nothing waits to be remembered.
Standard ⟶Hours, invoices from those hours, and a per-client picture of which of these is actually worth your evenings.
Standard ⟶Each client says how it pays you: a salary, hourly, a fixed fee, quarterly bonuses, or nothing at all. The side business bills; the day job doesn’t; the personal project isn’t billed and still gets tracked.
And an off-hours mode means the evening version of this screen is quieter than the Tuesday one.
“I can’t justify a subscription for something that isn’t my job yet.”
Fair. So here’s the honest arithmetic: it’s $24, and one invoice you’d otherwise have written from memory usually covers a year of it. If the side business doesn’t clear that, the useful thing this gives you is the number that proves it.
That $24 covers everything above. If you get to the point of sending clients estimates it’s $12 more — and by then it’ll have paid for itself. And if $24 is genuinely the thing standing between you and using it, write to me. I’d rather have you in here.
No streaks, no reminders, no red when a task is old. A month where you did nothing on it is a fact, not a failure.
A mode is a lens: mileage keeps recording, the money panels just aren’t on screen at nine on a Saturday.
Cancel and the room goes dormant rather than deleted. Come back in March and the lamp is where you left it.
Yes — a project can be not billable, and new ones default to it. No rate appears anywhere on it.
Only if you put it there. Most people log their own hours and their own notes, which is exactly what this is for.
That’s the design goal. Today, the timer and the last note are the re-entry point, and nothing has decayed while you were gone.
Then it scales the boring way: another person is $9 and gets their own Cockpit. No tier upgrade, no migration.
Not all of it, not the history — one client and this week. Two weeks free, no card, and if you go quiet you simply stop.
This is the short version of the site, cut down to what reads well on a small screen. The full thing — every instrument explained, the pricing configurator, the whole story — lives on the desktop site. So does the app: Cloudbase is meant to be worked from a real screen, at a desk, with your hands on it.