I built my sick wife a digital bell. She pressed the one button I left blank.
TL;DR: I caught the flu in Oaxaca and I still have it. By Mexico City, my wife had it too. From a tired Chromebook, I directed Claude to build her a sick-day bell: a page of big papel picado buttons where tapping "Té, por favor" opens a text to me, already written. No IDE, no terminal: Claude pushed it to GitHub straight from the chat, and it took under an hour from idea to her first tap. Her first tap went somewhere I didn't plan for.
My last post in this series ended with "Oaxaca is next." It was. I just didn't plan on leaving it with a fever.
So here's the setup. We're on vacation in Mexico. I got sick in Oaxaca a few days ago. We made it to Mexico City, and then it was E's turn. I'm still sick. Now she is too. So she's in bed, and I'm the one pushing through, upright enough to fetch things.
I was proud of one thing on this trip. I didn't touch my Chromebook until day 8. I was going for an all-time record. Then E got sick, and she was napping, and, well. I couldn't help myself. Okay, I could have. I didn't want to.
What I had: an HP Chromebook 11a with a MediaTek Kompanio 500 processor and 4 GB of memory, 1.44 GB of it free. A keyboard I kept fighting. It's an 11-inch layout after years on my 17-inch laptop at home and my work keyboard, so my fingers kept landing where the keys used to be. My messages to Claude that night included "spik ebut" and "ato home." It read them anyway. A few hours. What I didn't have: my usual setup, or any energy for a real project.
Because E was sick in bed, I thought she might need a bell: the little one you ring to ask for tea or a blanket when you don't have the energy to call out. Neither of us packed one, so I built her a digital one, hosted on GitHub Pages (here's the repo). Same job, fewer jingles.
I asked Claude (Opus 5.5) what we could build. It gave me three options. A play-test spike for my Kiroween typing game, which the bad keyboard would turn into free user research. A small sick-day page for E. Or a pure vacation toy.
It recommended the spike. I picked the page for her, because it was lovely and the spike could wait.
The Chromebook turned out not to matter. Claude works in a cloud workspace, so the heavy lifting happened there. When I checked the laptop afterward, its CPU was sitting at 5%.
The memory was mostly spoken for. The processor was barely awake. My job was the same as always: direct, decide, say no to things. On that keyboard, saying no was about all I could type anyway.
Under an hour later, my phone buzzed. The first text from her new bell was blank.
She rang the blank one
E had opened the page, skipped past the tea, the water, the blanket, and the soup, and tapped the one button with nothing written on it: Otra cosa, something else. Her Messages app opened, empty, pointed at me. She wasn't sure what to do with it. So she went back and tapped tea.
That one came through with a little steaming cup: 🍵 Té, por favor (Tea, please).
Same page, same person, two very different taps. I'll come back to the blank one. First, how it got built.
Five questions, zero typing
I asked Claude to interview me about what E should see. It asked one question at a time, each with options I could tap instead of type.
| Question | What I picked |
|---|---|
| Which buttons? | Tea, water or juice, extra blanket, come sit with me, a blank "something else" |
| Any more? | Soup or something to eat, lights down and quiet |
| Look and feel? | Bakery warm, then papel picado (more on that below) |
| Pictures? | Big emoji, small words |
| What's at the top? | A Spanish touch: ¿Qué necesitas, mi amor? |
That interview is the whole spec. Seven buttons and a greeting. I didn't write a PRD for this one, and I'm at peace with that.
A button is just a link
Each button is a plain link in the format iPhones accept for texts: sms:NUMBER&body=TEXT. Tap it and Messages opens with the number and the message filled in.
See the screenshot full size, or browse the code in the necesito repo.
She still has to press send. A web page can't send a text on its own, and I'm glad it can't. That one tap is a small price for a page that can't text anyone without her knowing.
The text that lands on my phone is the notification. No app for me, no server, nothing to keep running while we're both sick.
Spanish first, with training wheels
We don't speak Spanish. But we're in Mexico City, and ¿Qué necesitas, mi amor? is a much better thing to see from bed than "Request Form."
So the page went Spanish first, with a small English line under every label so she always knows what she's tapping. The texts come through in both: 🛌 Otra cobija, por favor (Extra blanket).
The first theme was bakery warm, a nod to her bakery. Then I asked to explore Mexican palettes, and we landed on papel picado: rosa mexicano, turquoise, orange, lime, purple, and marigold, with a string of cut-paper flags across the top.
The flags are pure CSS. On the first pass, the cutouts were arranged so each flag looked like a little smiling ghost. Claude rearranged the holes into a flower pattern. Now they look like papel picado instead of a haunted bunting.
Toe pick.
Claude filled in my number so the buttons had somewhere to send. Then we made a public GitHub repo, because free GitHub Pages wants one. Then it hit me, and I typed "TOE PICK!"
(If you know, you know. The Cutting Edge, 1992. The hockey player. The figure skater. The fall.)
My phone number was sitting in two files and the commit history of a public repo. It got there by me saying yes to each step without seeing where they added up.
The fix Claude proposed: take the number out of the code entirely and put it in the link instead, after the #.
https://earlgreyhot1701d.github.io/necesito/#5551234567
The part after the # is called the fragment, and browsers keep it to themselves. They don't send it to the server (RFC 3986, section 3.5), so GitHub never sees it. A few lines of script on the page read it, accept it only if it's 10 to 15 digits and nothing else, and build the buttons from it. A link with no number, or junk instead of digits, turns the buttons off and shows a note asking her to get the link again.
Then Claude wiped the history down to one clean commit and force-pushed it. One honest caveat: GitHub can keep an old commit reachable for a while to anyone with its exact address. Nobody had it, the repo was minutes old, and I can live with that.
The trade-off: the number lives in the link, so anyone she forwards the link to can see it. She's not forwarding it. She's resting.
No IDE. Just a chat.
This is the part I keep thinking about.
My usual build has handoffs. Claude writes the spec, Kiro builds it in an IDE, I review and decide. Tonight there was no handoff. I never opened an editor or a terminal. Nothing got installed on the Chromebook.
Once I created the empty repo and approved access, Claude cloned it, wrote the files, took screenshots to check its own work, committed, and pushed to GitHub. All of it happened in the same chat where it was asking me about tea. Every commit in the repo came from that conversation. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There were two things it couldn't do, and I like knowing where the edges are. It couldn't create the repo for me, and it couldn't turn on GitHub Pages, because that part of the GitHub API is blocked from its side. So I clicked those, about a minute of work, and Claude did everything else.
That split felt right. I owned the account decisions. The agent did the typing I couldn't.
The extras came after:
| File | Job |
|---|---|
og.png |
Social card, so iMessage shows the papel picado preview instead of a bare link |
apple-touch-icon.png |
A tea-cup flag icon for the browser tab |
robots.txt |
Keeps search engines out. It opens with "Shh. Someone's resting." |
humans.txt |
Credits. E's role: "resting. Tapping buttons. Getting better." |
Why the blank one stays
Back to that empty text.
The blank button was a choice, not a gap. Sometimes what you need isn't on the list, and the person in bed should still get a way to ask. But a blank text with no prompt left her unsure what she was supposed to do next. The pre-written buttons worked on the first try, with the cute emoji and everything.
So v2 gets one change: Otra cosa opens with Necesito... (I need...) already typed, so the cursor lands in a sentence instead of a void. That's it. Not refactoring anything else from a sick bed.
What it can't do
- Send the text for her. She presses send, every time.
- Work on Android as written. The link format is iPhone-first; Android usually wants
?body=instead of&body=. Untested there. - Hide the number from anyone who has the link.
- Tell her I read it. It's a request button, not a pager.
- Work without a signal. If Messages can't send, the page can't either.
Try it
earlgreyhot1701D
/
necesito
A tiny bilingual sick-day request page for my wife. Big papel picado buttons (tea, water, blanket, soup, quiet, company) open a pre-written text to me on her iPhone. She just presses send. One HTML file, no server, no login, no JavaScript. Built on vacation on a Chromebook. AI assisted. Human approved.
necesito
¿Qué necesitas, mi amor?
A tiny bilingual sick-day request page. My wife was sick in bed while we were on vacation, so I built her a page of big papel picado buttons. She taps one, her iPhone opens a text to me with the words already written, and she presses send.
No server. No login. One HTML file. No phone number in the code.
Live: https://earlgreyhot1701d.github.io/necesito/
What she sees
Button
English helper
Text I get
🍵 Té, por favor
Tea, please
🍵 Té, por favor (Tea, please)
🥤 Agua o jugo
Water or juice
🥤 Agua o jugo, por favor (Water or juice)
🛌 Otra cobija
Extra blanket
🛌 Otra cobija, por favor (Extra blanket)
🍲 Sopita o algo de comer
Soup or a snack
🍲 Algo de comer, por favor (Soup or a snack)
🌙 Luz baja y silencio
Lights down, quiet
🌙 Luz baja y silencio, por
Fork it, edit the button list in build.js, run node build.js, turn on Pages, and text your person the link with your number after the #. A 10-digit US number gets +1 added; anywhere else, use the full number with country code, digits only.
How long it took, by the clock on my messages (Mexico City time):
| Time | What happened |
|---|---|
| 6:04 PM | "What can we build?" |
| 6:13 PM | Interview starts |
| 6:17 PM | First version |
| 6:22 PM | All Spanish, English helper added |
| 6:27 PM | Papel picado |
| 6:30 PM | Repo created |
| 6:33 PM | TOE PICK |
| 6:38 PM | Number out of the code, history wiped |
| ~6:50 PM | The patient has used it |
This is the third stop in the A Builder in... series. In Paris, I learned that stepping away from my desk doesn't mean I stop building. In New Orleans, an app I'd already built came on the trip with us. Mexico City is the first time the app got built on the trip, for one person, for one sick week.
The goal on every trip is the same: close the laptop, let the internet go on without me, and leave the FOMO at home. It’s never easy. This time I made it to day 8. Next time, day 9.
Quick context if you are new here. I work in the California courts, running court operations for the county. I started building with AI in July 2025 and I have been learning in public ever since. I do not write the code. I direct, the agents generate, I validate and decide. I build the Clew Suite, a set of civic tech tools for making complex systems easier to inspect. That is the lens I am writing from.
Built and written with AI assistance in November 2026. Claude (Opus 5.5) wrote the code, pushed the repo, and assisted in draftingdthis post from our build session. I directed, decided, and edited.
AI Assisted. Human Approved. Powered by NLP.
Top comments (1)
The blank-button detail is the part that sticks: she skipped every labelled request and tapped "Otra cosa" first, which says a lot about how an open field beats a menu when someone is unwell. The v2 fix is neat too — prefilling "Necesito..." so the cursor lands in a sentence instead of a void, rather than adding more buttons. And the fragment trick for the phone number is a good trade-off to name honestly: keeping the number out of the repo and the commit history, while accepting that anyone holding the link can see it. Hope you both feel better soon.