A little history first. My dad was a duct tape abuser. He used duct tape to fix anything and everything. Perfect example: I was 18. I had a light blue Dodge K-car. The funniest thing about this car was that if you parked on an incline, you couldn’t get it out of park. The gear shift literally would not move out of park. Everyone but the driver had to get out, stand behind the K-car and heave it forward while I simultaneously shifted the gear from park to drive. It had to be perfect timing, or it wouldn’t work. It makes me smile just to remember it. What a hoot! But I digress.
It wasn’t bad enough that the car needed a good heave to get going, but my muffler developed a loud rattling sound, almost like a motorcycle. My father, God bless him, took one look at the muffler and said something like “Oh, it’s just a little hole. It’s still drivable.” Right dad, only with a bag over my head. Remember, I’m 18 years old, and just the tiniest digression from normal makes me want to crawl in a hole forever.
So my dad, again God bless him, said he’ll get it fixed. Naturally I thought he meant he was going to take it to the shop to get a new muffler. Isn’t that the logical conclusion one would draw? Imagine my surprise when he said he “fixed” it with a little duct tape. Admittedly, it did make less noise (sort of a muffled rattling now rather than the motorcycle rattling). Not only did I have a beat up car that refused to drive if on an incline sporting a hole in its muffler, but my car was fixed (and I use the term loosely) with duct tape. Oh the horror of it all.
So to the REAL story now. My dear husband of 11+ years whom I was dating during the K-car trauma poked quite a bit of fun at my dad and anyone else who used duct tape as a fixer-of-anything. Today, though, he is singin’ a different tune, clearly. You know those long chalk holders they sell that you can put a piece of chalk in and then you don’t have to bend over and break your back while enjoying chalk artistry with the kids? Apparently my husband doesn’t know about these. Because this is what I found in the garage this morning:
Just so we’re clear here, that is a chalk stick that my husband fashioned from a tree branch to which he duct taped some chalk. OH THE HORROR! Seriously, my first thought was “I hope none of the neighbors saw this.” Immediately following that thought “I’m going to hide that tape.” I confronted hubby about it this morning, and he said, with enthusiasm and a smile on his face, “Oh, did you like it?!” like this was seriously a great idea. He has no pride left. I’m thinking it vanished that day he went to work with oatmeal all over the back of his shoulder.