The thought that comes to me right before I fall asleep is almost always the thought that would have been most useful to have six hours earlier. The architectural insight. The thing I should say in tomorrow's difficult conversation. The realization about why the approach I spent all day on is wrong.
I used to pick up my phone and open a note. That woke me up completely. I'd lie there scrolling for twenty minutes before I could fall asleep again. I tried a notebook by the bed, which was better, but I couldn't read my own writing in the dark.
I proposed a small board on the back of the bedroom door. My wife's objections were reasonable: the bedroom should be calm, not a workspace extension, she didn't want to fall asleep looking at a productivity surface. These are not unreasonable positions.
The compromise we landed on: a small board in the corner of the room, not visible from the bed. I can walk to it in the dark — I know exactly where it is — write something quickly, and come back. It's not in the visual field when I'm trying to sleep.
It's been up for eight months. I've used it maybe twice a week. The things I capture there are consistently the most useful notes I take, because they're the things my brain has been working on quietly all day without me noticing. They're not tasks or reminders. They're the underlying thoughts that tasks and reminders are supposed to be about.
My wife has used it twice that I know of. She hasn't asked me to take it down.