First,
pay attention.
A few habits from my own bench. The purpose of the book is to leave me a clearer starting point when I return.
A page before a change
I begin with the things I might otherwise overlook: the shape of the case, a missing screw, the position of a scratch, and the way a door closes. A quick photograph is useful, but making a drawing slows me down enough to notice more. For the narrow mantel clock, I drew the hinge from two sides and wrote “do not lose this washer” in a box large enough to be impossible to ignore.
A place for each small thing
Loose parts go into a shallow tray, with folded paper labels beside them. I once trusted myself to remember which pair of similar screws belonged to the case and which belonged to the back cover. The book now contains a very plain sketch that would have saved me an unnecessarily long evening. The tray is covered when I stop, and the next job gets a single sentence before I turn off the lamp.
Leave a question open
Not every session ends with an answer. Sometimes a sound I thought was uneven becomes hard to judge because I have listened for too long. I write down what I noticed and come back the next day with a fresh ear. The most useful note is often a question rather than a conclusion. It keeps me from treating yesterday's guess as a fact just because I have already written it neatly.
Return to the shelf of clocks