Nine items on the fridge since March. One Tuesday.

The house is a 2003 build off Bruceville, the kind with a long punch list that never gets urgent enough to book on its own. Most of these items had been on the fridge since spring — nothing broken enough to stop what you're doing, just present enough to notice every time you walk past.

The garage door was the one that looked like it might actually be a new opener. It made a clicking sound on the way down and stopped halfway, twice a week or so. The safety sensor was about half an inch out of alignment — knocked, probably, by something leaning against the frame at some point. Fifteen minutes with a level, no new parts, no new opener.