05/09/2026
She called to replace the decking.
First-generation Trex, existing frame, most of it looked decent — the roofed portion had kept the structure dry. Straightforward job, right?
Then I noticed the door.
The master bedroom door to the upper deck was tight. Not sticky-humid tight. Frame-has-moved tight. That's not a door problem. That's a structural problem.
I stepped onto the deck. It was spongy away from the house — and it moved at the house. I stepped back inside. The other homeowner quietly admitted he'd been afraid to go out there too.
Here's what was happening — invisibly, from two directions:
The footings were heaving. Or the home was sinking. Most of the neighboring properties are on piles. This one wasn't. The differential movement had already begun undermining the floor framing.
And that upper deck everyone thought was perfectly waterproofed? It was. Underneath. But water was migrating laterally — working its way between the deck assembly and the wall cladding, rotting the rim joist and floor framing from the inside out. No drips below. No staining. Nothing to see.
She called about Trex. The frame was already failing. The house was already involved.
The fix was beyond what they could consider.
Welcome to Deck Safety Month. The deck that looks fine is sometimes the most dangerous one you'll ever stand on.
