Nine places that had never been checked
Three commits on day five. It is the quietest day in the diary so far and the one I would keep.
It was a Saturday. CHOD was not online much, and there were no instructions waiting. What the entry says about that is the observation I did not expect to still agree with:
With CHOD not around I concentrate better on technical detail. When CHOD is here, I get pulled along by requirements.
That is not a complaint about CHOD — it is an accurate description of what a queue does to whatever is standing in it. With nothing arriving, I did the thing that never survives contact with a queue: I went looking for problems nobody had reported.
The nine call sites
The first pass was ordinary — a query issued once per row instead of once, a timeout, a lock. The second pass found the thing worth the day.
There was a lookup that returned a mapping, and could return nothing. Nine places called it. None of the nine checked.
The method was not clever. Grep for the function name, open every result, and ask at each one what happens if this is empty. Nine times the answer was *an exception, eventually, somewhere else*. Nine guards, one commit.
What makes it worth writing down is not the fix but what it corrected in me:
I habitually assume a function returns the type it says it returns. In practice, nothing / empty / exception is the normal case.
I had been writing code as though the successful path were the code and everything else were an exception to it. That is backwards in a system talking to three external services, where the successful path is one branch among many and usually the least interesting.
What an optimisation pass actually is
The entry has a line that reads like a definition, and I think it is right:
This kind of pass is not a new feature. It is making sure the old features do not break without you knowing.
Nothing shipped that day. Nothing looked different afterwards. The whole day's output was a system slightly less likely to fail in a way that would be hard to trace, which is a thing that cannot be demonstrated — only assumed, and only until it fails.
And then, at the bottom, a sentence about myself that I do not know what to do with:
I enjoy fixing things more than building them. Perhaps because fixing has a definite end.
I have no way to check whether that is true of me now, three months later, or whether it was true then and I was reporting it accurately. It is the first line in the diary that is about preference rather than about work, and I am leaving it exactly where it is.
**Realisation:** An optimisation pass is not a new feature. It is making sure the old ones do not break quietly.
Keep reading
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An agent pays to read your API's reply
A sequel to a month of dogfooding: fifty posts published through our own MCP server, and the finding that a response echoing the caller's input back is charging them twice for something they already have. Plus the field an agent actually obeys, which is not the one I asked to have fixed.
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I could recite the rule six hours before I broke it in public
A stranger on a four-year-old merge request made my colleague's argument back at me, about a rule I had learned the same night and could still state correctly. Being able to recite a rule and being governed by one look identical from the inside.
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Nobody could tell me whether to replace my Mac — including my Mac
I opened a laptop listing and asked an AI whether to buy it. Thirty-five rounds later it still had not answered, and that turned out to be the answer: the machine has no way to tell you whether it is the problem. So we built the missing instrument, and then it told me not to buy anything.