Steady reads the receipts and bills already sitting in your email and does the rest — dinner from what's actually in your fridge, an outfit for tomorrow's meeting, every bill tracked to the day. Nothing to log, nothing to maintain — even the journal writes its own first draft.
Founding cohort: your rate, locked for life. No card required to join the list.
You're on the list. One email when your spot opens — nothing else, we promise.
Every order confirmation becomes structured, useful fact — items, prices, expiry estimates, due dates — each routed to the right part of your life. Email receipts flow in on their own. Paper ones from the store? Snap a photo and it reads those too.
A bill arriving, groceries aging, a subscription renewing you forgot existed, a big meeting tomorrow. Steady catches the signal the moment it lands and decides whether it's worth your attention — most things aren't, and you never see them.
Your grocery orders become a live pantry with expiry countdowns — no lists, no scanning, no typing. Then at 6pm, when deciding feels impossible, Steady picks one dinner from what's actually in your fridge and breaks it into three small steps, starting with "take out a pan." It favors whatever's closest to going bad, so the food you paid for gets eaten instead of thrown out.
Steady rebuilds your wardrobe from years of order emails — every shirt, color, and size you've bought, no photographing required. Each morning it puts together one outfit matched to the weather and what's on your calendar: the polished option before the investor call, the comfortable one on a no-meetings day. No staring at the closet, no 8am panic-purchase.
Steady watches how money actually leaves: the duplicate purchase it's seen before, the subscription you stopped using, the delivery habit quietly eating your grocery budget. Unnecessary spending gets flagged without judgment — and bills still get caught the moment they land. The goal isn't a budget you have to maintain. It's one number moving the right direction: your net worth, climbing because less is slipping out.
Every evening, Steady drafts your day from what it observed — the bill you paid, the dinner you cooked, the thing you handled — and you just read it, adding a line only if you feel like it. And because it holds the context of your whole life, it's conversational: tell it what you're working toward, and it finds the path in your own numbers. It answers from your record — because it was there.
Your friends just do the daily stuff — the bill, the dinner, the laundry — with energy left over. You've been quietly choosing between being great at work and keeping up with an ordinary life. That trade was never fair. And you shouldn't have to keep making it.
A budgeting app, a meal planner, a closet app, a to-do list, a journal. Each one costs money — and each one hands the hardest job, remembering to use it, right back to you.
Wants you to categorize transactions daily.
Wants a weekly plan and a maintained grocery list.
Wants you to photograph everything you own.
Wants constant triage. Judges you with badges.
Wants an entry every night, starting from blank.
Wants nothing. It's already read the receipts.
Five apps isn't a system — it's five more things to fall behind on. Fewer decisions is the fix, not more software.
The ADHD community calls it the ADHD tax — researchers put it at $2,000+ a year, and higher if you earn more. But averages are easy to shrug off. Your own number is harder. Take thirty seconds:
Most people's first reaction is that the real number is higher.
16× what Steady costs* Sources: Monzo × YouGov · EPA (2025) · LendingTree (2025)
One late fee, one panic-ordered dinner, one "I have nothing to wear" purchase — any of them costs more than a month of Steady.
Everything. Cancel anytime, obviously.
Or $119/year. Locked for life — standard pricing applies after the first cohort.
It's the community's name for what executive dysfunction costs in actual dollars: the groceries that go bad, the delivery ordered while food sat in the fridge, the late fees on bills you had the money for, the subscriptions that renew unnoticed, the impulse buys and duplicate purchases. Research puts it at $2,000+ a year, and it runs higher for higher earners — more accounts, more subscriptions, more chaos to tax.
And it isn't only money. It's paid in time and attention too: twenty minutes staring into the closet, forty deciding what to eat and ordering anyway, the hunt for the thing you just had, the low hum of tracking it all in your head. Hours a week spent managing life instead of living it — which, for someone whose focus is literally their income, is the more expensive half of the tax. There's a calculator just above this FAQ if you want your own number; most people find the research figure conservative.
Same — which is why Steady requires nothing from you after setup. No tasks to enter, no streaks to maintain, no system to fall behind on. It works whether you open it or not: the receipts keep parsing, the brief keeps arriving. Apps fail people with ADHD by demanding executive function. This one supplies it.
It reads your receipts. A filter identifies receipt-shaped mail — order confirmations, bills, delivery notices — before anything gets processed, and everything else is ignored entirely: your correspondence, newsletters, and secrets are never read or stored. Once a receipt becomes structured data (chicken thighs, $11.98, expires Thursday), the original email is discarded. We keep the facts, not the mail — and every fact stays traceable to where it came from.
No — and that's deliberate. Steady connects to your personal inbox only. It isn't built to touch a work account, both because your employer's data shouldn't flow through a consumer app and because nothing Steady needs lives there. Your receipts arrive at your personal address; that's the whole surface area.
No. You pay for Steady — that's the business model, the whole business model. Your purchase history isn't inventory, there are no ads, and nothing is shared with or sold to anyone. A subscription you pay for is the only honest way to run a product that reads receipts.
They won't be, and that's fine. Steady is honest about knowing ~70% of your life instead of pretending to know 100%. Seventy percent tracked automatically beats the zero percent you're tracking now — and for in-store purchases, snap a photo of the paper receipt and it gets parsed like everything else.
We're starting as a web app — it works in any browser, phone included, and going web-first means the founding cohort gets Steady months sooner. A native phone app is next on the roadmap once the core is solid. In the meantime, the parts that matter daily come to you anyway: the morning brief and evening journal arrive wherever you already are.
No. Steady isn't treatment, therapy, or a diagnosis — it's a very good assistant for the practical side of life. It works alongside whatever else works for you.
Because that's four more apps to maintain, and maintenance is the failure mode. Steady is one system fed by one source (your inbox) that runs whether you touch it or not. The integration isn't a convenience — it's the entire mechanism.
Founding cohort spots are limited. The chaos won't organize itself.
You're in. One email when your spot opens.