My wife and I finally got an offer accepted on a house and hired a home inspector. I thought he'd just walk around and make sure the roof wasn't actively caving in. Instead, a guy named Gary showed up with a tactical utility belt, an infrared camera, and the demeanor of a homicide detective. Gary spent 6 hours meticulously documenting every structural sin committed in the last 50 years. He handed me a 90-page PDF report that was color-coded by severity. The whole document was basically just red. He noted that the slope of the driveway deviates by two degrees, which could cause pooling during a catastrophic hundred-year flood. I live in a landlocked state. He pointed his thermal camera at a window and told me I was losing an unacceptable amount of ambient heat. I told him the window was open. He wrote that down as a critical mechanical failure. He took me to the basement to look at the HVAC unit. He shined his flashlight on a single speck of dust and asked if I was prepared for the respiratory consequences of poor filtration. I asked him if the furnace actually worked. He sighed deeply and said it functions, but it lacks the efficiency of a modern heat pump. We moved to the electrical panel where Gary put on thick rubber gloves like he was about to defuse a bomb. He told me the wiring was technically up to code but ethically questionable. I don't know how electricity can lack morals, but Gary seemed very disappointed in the circuit breaker. Finally, he found a tiny crack in the garage floor. He used a digital caliper to measure it and informed me the foundation is undergoing micro-settlement. Every house on earth is undergoing micro-settlement. We're on a spinning rock in space, Gary. I asked him for a bottom-line assessment on whether we should buy the property. He looked me dead in the eye and said the house is technically habitable but still compromised. I paid him $600 for this psychological warfare. We're still going to buy the house. I'm just going to live in constant fear that maybe Gary was right.