One page per habit, each with the moment to attach it to, an ordinary version and a version small enough for the days that fall apart. Every habit fails in its own way, so each page is about that one rather than about habits in general.
Getting into bed is the cue. One page is a complete night, and page targets are what end it.
The size is almost always the problem. Five press-ups on the days a session will not happen.
A cue problem rather than a size one. “Throughout the day” is not a moment.
Finishing lunch is the strongest cue in an ordinary day. Step targets are what spoil it.
It has no natural end, so a routine takes over. One stretch is a complete day.
The failure here is grading the session. Three slow breaths is a version nobody can be bad at.
The blank page is the obstacle, not the time. One dated line is a finished entry.
You cannot practise not doing something. Make it an object with a destination.
The smallest habit here and one of the most abandoned, because a standard creeps in.
Tidying has no edges, so it swallows the evening. Bound it by time or by surface.
A minute on the doorstep is a complete day. Confusing it with a walk is what ends it.
Nothing signals that you missed them, so the bottle's location does most of the work.
The counter inside the learning app is what ends most of these. One word is a day.
Planning in the morning is planning too late. Attach it to closing your laptop.
A routine is a sequence, and a sequence has no small version unless you name one.
Planned for after brushing, when you have already mentally finished. Two teeth counts.
Chasing a complete record is what ends it. Log the biggest thing and leave the gaps.
Decided at the shop rather than at the meal. Adding one thing is the workable version.