Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Great Stuff

The overflow pipe in our pond was partially corroded and had broken away. The Englishman decided to fit a PVC pipe over the existing one in order to allow the pond to fill with more water. He decided to do this in July during a small pause in a thunderstorm.

The rain may have paused but the thunder and lightening continued as he dragged the metal rowboat to the edge of the dock. There was no water around the dock. Weeds and grass formed a small peninsula as the pond had receded away so severely. We looked around the edge of the pond for another alternative method for launching the boat. Balancing the boat precariously on two moldy and rotting wooden planks was the answer. I was the lucky passenger who was ordered to sit at the front of the boat while the Englishman heaved it nose first as slimy, murky water sloshed into the boat. He jumped into the back and paddled the boat onto an unexpected sand bar. I was handed a mildew covered bamboo pole and instructed to use it to push us off our newly discovered barrier island. After much effort, we freed our vessel and the Englishman paddled while I poled toward the rusty metal pipe on the opposite and deeper side of the pond.

We forgot the anchor so I was told to use the pole to hold the boat steady while the Englishman fitted the PVC pipe over the original one. He then opened his can of “Great Stuff”, an insulating foam sealant, and proceeded to fill in the gaps between the two pipes. The Englishman was finished filling in the gaps long before the can was empty. Big gobs of the foam were stuck to his hands and forearms. The can kept foaming and dripping. Great Stuff clumps spilled into the boat and the Englishman cursed and flapped his arms. I was now in charge of finding a path to the shore and I grasped the paddle and plowed through the algae. The Englishman sat at the front of the boat, his arms spread wide like Jesus blessing the fish, and had the audacity to complain about my boating skills. I examined the paddle in my hands and glared at the back of his head for a few moments before deciding that the pond was far too shallow to knock him overboard. He was dubious about my decision to return the boat to the rotting wooden planks; however I proved him wrong as I forcefully launched the boat with expert precision into one of the edges of the pond. He was able to climb onto the grass and he ran off waving his hands in the air as he shouted “Stay there!” as he tried to find something to wash his hands. I examined the tadpoles while I waited. Big raindrops began to fall and the Englishman finally returned. The gobs of foam had hardened and were stuck to his hands like lemon colored meringue. He caught the rope that I threw to him and pulled the boat to the planks. I climbed out of the boat and trudged back to the house in the rain.

The Englishman went to the kitchen sink and scrubbed his hand vigorously. Nothing. I handed him a massive bottle of nail polish remover. No change. I dumped baking soda on his hands just for fun. Nada. I eyed the candy-colored sprinkles in the kitchen cabinet and thought better of it so I looked up “How to remove Great Stuff from skin” on the internet. I looked at the Englishman. “It says you should wear gloves before using.” The Englishman let me know how helpful I was being. I continued to search. He didn’t want to try the flour method so he was left with waiting three days for it to fall off. I was stuck for three days listening to him whine and watch him pluck dried bits from his skin. Great Stuff.

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