We stopped fixing the small things without really deciding to.

It wasn’t a plan.

It just sort of happened.

At the start, everything got noted. Loose tiles, dripping taps, a door that didn’t quite line up. I had a running list on my phone that felt like progress just by existing. Things to sort once we had time. Once we had the right tools. Once the next bit of the house was finished.

None of that quite lined up.

So things stayed.

The loose tile is still by the kitchen window. It moves slightly if you step on it in the wrong place. Not enough to break, just enough that you notice it every time and then forget about it again.

The gutter still overflows when it rains properly. Not every time. Just enough that when it does, it feels familiar rather than surprising.

The tap downstairs has its own way of working now. You turn it, pause, and leave it alone. If you try to improve it, it stops. Everyone knows that. No one talks about it.

There are a few others.

A light switch that only works if you press it slightly to one side.

A cupboard door that won’t stay shut unless there’s something resting against it.

The terrace door that needs lifting as you close it, otherwise it catches and stays half open.

None of these are big jobs.

That’s probably the problem.

If something properly breaks, it gets dealt with. The day the power didn’t come back on, everything else stopped until it was sorted. There wasn’t a choice.

But the small things sit in a different category.

Too minor to force action.

Too constant to ignore completely.

So you adjust instead.

You learn the angle of the switch. The weight needed against the cupboard door. The exact point where the tap starts behaving. It becomes automatic after a while, like using someone else’s car for a few days and figuring out the clutch.

The house doesn’t feel unfinished in a dramatic way anymore.

It feels… negotiated.

Everyone moving around it slightly differently, making small allowances without really thinking about it.

The kids don’t notice most of it now. They use things as they are. If something doesn’t work, they find a way round it quickly and carry on.

My wife notices all of it.

Not loudly. Just small pauses. A look at something that isn’t quite right. The sort of look that means it’s been added to a different list somewhere, not the one on my phone.

I still tell myself I’ll go round one weekend and fix a few things properly.

Start with the easy ones. Clear the list down a bit.

I probably will.

Just not this week.

Someone closed the terrace door earlier without lifting it and now it’s not quite shut again.

You can see the gap if you stand at the right angle.