June in Orange County

If you don't charge a car at home, close this card — it's not for you, and there's nothing to buy.

Since 1993, every opener sold has had two independent safety systems: auto-reverse (the door hits something and retreats) and photo eyes (the door won't close through a broken beam).

Desert rain is a different animal.

A house fails differently when nobody's home to hear it.

Behind your washing machine are two hoses under constant pressure, and the factory rubber ones have a service life people don't respect: about five years before the material starts giving up.

Every shower puts about a pint of water into the air, and the little fan in the ceiling is the only exit.

This card acts on what your siding-and-paint walkaround finds — that one inspects, this one fixes.

Your siding and paint are the house's only raincoat, and raincoats fail at the seams: butt joints, nail heads, window trim, and anywhere wood meets weather.

Plants against a house do damage on three quiet channels: they hold moisture against the skin, they abrade whatever they touch in the wind, and they give every pest in the yard a covered highway to your walls.

Siding isn't decorative — it's the raincoat.

Your water meter watches every drop that enters the house, which makes it the cheapest leak-detection technology you'll ever own.