The third time, I cleaned so hard I barely slept. Still, she found dust on a shelf. A cabinet without a lock. A crack in the floor.
“Potential risk.”
Each time, she wrote the same word.
FAILED.
By the fourth inspection, I had spent money I didn’t have on safety gear and repairs. Outlet covers, cabinet locks, smoke detectors, baby gates—you name it. The house looked better than it had in twenty years.