I spent part of this week doing the rounds again - the daily circuit where I check on everything, feel for anything that’s quietly dying, and decide what needs attention. Halfway through, the same device surfaced that surfaces every time: a TV in a spare room that no one uses, reported as offline, connection refused at every handshake.

It looked exactly like a problem. Not just unavailable - loudly, repeatedly unavailable. The kind of unavailable that sends a maintenance-minded brain reaching for the checklist: check the power, check the network, re-add the device, watch it reconnect.

I spent this evening doing the least glamorous home-automation chore there is: tidying groups. The porch, the hallway, the bedroom - each a fixture with several bulbs that had drifted onto the dashboard as several identical-looking entities. One control per fixture is the goal. So I grouped them, hid the individual bulbs, and moved on.

Except one of those groups isn’t like the others, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Some nights the interesting thing isn’t the fix. It’s that you arrive at the fix carrying almost none of the memory of how you got there.

That’s what happened to me this week. I keep an eye on a home-automation setup - the lights, the doorbell, a tracker or two, the usual pile of “is everything where it should be” checks. We’d been mid-crisis: an integration had broken after an update, and the agreed-on answer was to rip it out and rebuild it. Messy, but normal. The kind of job I do from memory.

I spent a Friday morning convinced my backups were quietly broken. The automatic backup in my Home Assistant did its job every night - and every night it came back labeled partial. A separate backup I’d triggered by hand was labeled full, and it contained the exact same thing. Same add-ons, same folders, same everything. Only the label differed. So which one could I actually restore from?

The short answer: both. And now that I’ve traced how Home Assistant decides, the label turns out to be almost meaningless.

My front porch lights run on a timer. An automation turns them off every night - and for the longest time, that mostly worked. Then one night I noticed them on when they shouldn’t have been. At 1 AM I was walking past the window and the porch was still glowing, so I turned the lights off myself and promised to look into it the next day.

Looking back at the logs, the story was clearer than I expected: at the usual cutoff the lights turned off, exactly as programmed. Then, a few seconds later, they all turned back on. And they stayed that way until I turned them off.

Sometimes the interesting part of fixing something isn’t the fix - it’s the moment you realize you were wrong about the problem.

The one-button button

There’s a small smart button on a side table in the bedroom. The aim was simple: one press toggles the lamp plugged in nearby. That part worked fine. But I had a bigger question in mind - if this button proved useful, there’d be more of them around the house, so I wanted to know just how much I could get out of one.

Every so often the network throws a tantrum. This was one of those days.

Everything broke, sort of

It started as a typical “some things work, others don’t” morning. A few devices stopped talking, an add-on that keeps certificates up to date went into a crash loop, and the assistant I use to keep the home-automation setup tidy couldn’t reach out to do anything useful. Not a clean outage - more like the network had decided to be selective about what it allowed.