I know, I know...four flights of stairs doesn't sound like much to you, but you need to remember that I'm a slug. An old, tired, still-recovering-from-icky-bugs slug.
One thing I forgot to mention earlier is that the house is still protesting our making it to the six-year mark. The other night we heard an odd sound, like something had gotten knocked over. But all the kids were accounted for, and it didn't sound like it came from the attic, where the possums are still frolicking with great abandon and absolutely no regard for our 6:01 am wake-up call.
Turns out it was a blade from the ceiling fan in the bedroom. Just fell right off. Not worked itself loose - fell off. As in, the metal part holding the blade to the motor just sheared. Kinda like the front door did almost exactly a year ago. Only, the front door made at least a little bit of sense, since we were having to tug on it really hard. As far as I know, no one has been tugging on the ceiling fan. As far as I know. But what do I know? The good news is that the fan wasn't running when it happened, so the blade wasn't flung across the room, where it might have broken something valuable, like the lamp I got on sale for $7.99 . With this house, you learn to be thankful for the little things.