I mean, talking about caulk never gets old.
Because there is, of course, that terrible caulk problem from schools built between the 1950s and 70s. The deadly, deadly caulk! The toxic caulk!
Old caulk, it turns out, can be a problem.
So yesterday Nick went off to the hardware store and returned with, among other things, a big tube of caulk sticking out of the pocket of his pants.
Because of course, our up-upstairs bathroom is currently being held together with caulk. Nick intends to just keep caulking the crap out of it until we can get the whole thing redone.
We should buy stock in caulk. Caulk stock.
I was standing in front of our house with several neighbors. We were amassing our kids to go to the park and enjoy the lovely weather.
So the caulk. How can one resist? And then once you begin with, "Is that caulk in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" how can you not continue?
The answer is: I do not know.
In other words, there was a lot of caulk talk. So much caulk talk.
I cannot contain myself.
That is me, faced with caulk. Just like those poor schools and their PCBs.