This morning, I went to caulk around the chimney. This activity was supposed to be as easy as watching Norm from The New Yankee Workshop build a Chaise Lounge. Instead, it became the I Love Lucy episode where she and Ethel can’t stop the conveyor belt of chocolates.
I admit I was channeling Mike Holmes when I confronted the structure with my loaded caulk gun. I confidently applied pressure to the trigger and ran the tip down the gap. “Beautiful,” I thought, “Nothing to it.” Somewhere in my Rolodex of Holmes on Holmes, I remember watching someone take his finger and run it down the seam of caulk to smooth it out. I did the same. Everything seemed to be going fine until I felt caulk dripping like a stream of taffy onto my hand.
I looked down and there were caulk bird droppings all over the floor. I attempted to stick the cap back on the tip but the relentless flow of the caulk just popped it right off. I tried to plug the tip with my fingers but the goo just kept coming. Within a few seconds, my hands were coated and my fingers began to stick to one another and to the gun.
It was a brand new tube and I didn’t want it waste the product; I thought more caulk applied to the wood would be better, right? Kind of like duck tape. Except by this time, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t keep my hand steady. I realized that all my dreams of working in construction or as a cake decorator were gone. After applying caulk to every gap I saw, I made a mad dash into the house.
Naturally, I yelled for my husband.
“Rob, you gotta look at the caulk gun!”
“Why do I need to look at it? You know what you’re doing,” he said.
“Well, I did, but I don’t know how to stop the caulk from coming out the gun.”
“Is it still flowing?” he asked.
“Ahhh, yah," I said under my breath.
Good news though! He stopped the caulk and informed me that nothing, including water, will get between the chimney and the structure. Whew!