March 2009 - Duct Tape Therapy 

After living here a couple of years, I've come to realize this: to survive in the country, you have to have common sense, a good attitude, physical ability, the right tools - and most importantly, a whole bunch of duct tape. I don't have all of those skills, but fortunately, my husband does. Between the two of us, we're kind of like a cross between MacGyver and Red Green. (If you don't know who Red Green is, he's the most ingenious, free entertainment available and sees duct tape as the answer to any problem. Check your local PBS channel on Saturday nights.)

Of course, Richard is the MacGyver. He's got the knowledge, experience and strength to get most of the "hard" or mechanical part fixed on just about anything you can throw at him. I'm resourceful, too, but more like Red Green - I don't have the technical "know how" (I still can't set the time on the VCR), but I know just enough to come up with some off-the-wall fix nobody else thought of, and recently, it seems to involve duct tape.

I've used a lot of it since our arrival here. To start, the one pathetic, baby blue bathtub in the old house is full of bondo and duct tape. It was our way of not putting money and time into a newer one. How it continues to hold water totally baffles me, but if you want to see it in action, come over to our place and my kids will gladly give you a demo. They're beyond embarrassment at this point.

The old refrigerator was the next victim. It operated fine, but looked a little rough around the edges. It was missing most of its door shelves, and the drawer fronts wouldn't stay on either. The shelves were going to cost a small fortune to replace, so I went to the building and came back with plywood, black screws, and, of course, duct tape. Richard built a collection of plywood shelves and used duct tape to put it all together.

We used it for about a year and eventually got a newer model. It still worked fine so I called in to the local radio classifieds and offered it for sale. A local fellow gave me $40 so he could put it in his garage to hold his "drinks." He thinks he's got the coolest fridge with custom wood shelves. Richard came home that day and noticed it was gone. His jaw fell open when I explained, and he couldn't believe I'd made money on my duct tape repair! He was appalled.

The plumbing under the house, or more accurately - lack of plumbing - was the next project. If you want to simplify the major premise of plumbing in a few words it would be this: turds tumble downhill. Not uphill or through 90-degree pipe elbows which some previous owner of this old place didn't seem to understand. Let's put it this way, Richard had to re-route the network of pipes under the house a few times, and it now includes more duct tape than PVC. Most importantly, the toilet will now flush.

I'm most proud of the washing machine fix. One cold, snowy day when Richard couldn't work outside, he tried to fix the washing machine. He took almost every working part of that machine apart. He tinkered, tightened, oiled, sprayed, and adjusted everything there was. On the final stretch of getting it back together, he accidentally knocked a hole through the inside drum. Uh-oh. A day's work went down the drain.

I went in to study the situation. He thought the hole was not repairable. I went and got the duct tape and proceeded to fix the hole down inside. Richard came back in to look at what I'd done. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and bet me ten dollars it wouldn't hold through the first rinse cycle. I agreed and I'm proud to say, about 30 or so loads later, my original duct tape fix is still holding tight. And we didn't spend a dime! I told him, I didn't go to college for nothing! He has yet to pay me my ten bucks.

Recently, after four days without electric, I was desperate to be able to read in bed. I don't sleep well at night so, some form of entertainment is essential. I finally fixed me a reading lamp by vicariously duct taping Richard's favorite Mag-Lite to our headboard. I just have to remember to recharge the batteries when I get the chance. And, pray it doesn't fall down in the middle of the night.

I will have to say, if I could find someone brave enough (or ignorant enough, depending on which attitude you want to take) I believe we could fix the electric outage down our hollow by ourselves. The small wire is hanging loose on a short pole right beside my neighbor's house. A pine tree had fallen across it.

It would only take a good step ladder and a few long pieces of tape to put it back up.

I wondered if I called up the electric company for the upteenth time this week and explained that I'm tired of waiting and I've figured out how to fix it myself, they might miraculously show up - finally - and make the repair. I realize that their truck would probably be closely tailed by an ambulance, and a couple of burly guys at the wheel holding a white strait jacket with my name on it. Then you'd read about me in the newspaper and my kids might notice their mother was missing, so I figured that might not be a good idea.

I've even used duct tape on our cars. Don't tell Richard about the seat belt he thinks he fixed, or the clanking front grill of my truck that a deer took out. You can't see it unless you bend down and look closely through the grill openings. Thankfully, a lot of the metallic shine has worn off enough that the underneath color matches the color of the tape almost flawlessly. So, unless I get it painted anytime soon, my secret is safe.

(By the way, if you happen to be one of Richard's paying customers, don't worry. I'm not allowed to bring duct tape to his job sites. Although, I have to admit, I've seen some opportunities to save folks money on a few occasions.)

Richard's not always receptive to my duct tape obsession. When I want him to help me, the scenario goes something like this:

First request: He looks at me like I've lost my rocker; he wouldn't be caught dead doing something like that.

Second request: While trying to explain the virtues of my logic, he tries to sidetrack me by telling me all the reasons why it won't work (praying I'll just listen and shut up). Well, that backfires, because he knows I hate to hear how something can't be done.

Third request: he tries to fix it himself so he doesn't have to listen to me anymore.

Fourth request: He tells me he'll get something at the hardware store next time he's in town. That does it. I'm not going to spend money if I don't have to. So I commence to figuring it out myself.

After watching me struggle for a while (or until I start uttering a few choice words), he feels guilty and agrees to help me out if I promise not to broadcast to everyone what I was able to convince him to do. I agree, saying "I promise this time …"

By the end of it, though, I'm so proud that I haven't spent any money, and saved something else from the landfill that, of course, I have to share my accomplishment with others!

Who knew duct tape could be so therapeutic?!

Hoping to simplify their lives, Kim Butler and her family recently returned to Calhoun County after 20 years near Charlotte, North Carolina. They spend their free time putting their old farm back together, keeping the wildlife out of the old house and honing their country skills. They plan to build a log home sometime soon. You can contact Kim at kimbutler@frontiernet.net.