I’m celebrating kindness today. Not going all in for the Valentine’s Day fluff, and considering I have been sidelined all week with a diabolical variant (XEC) of the ‘Rona, I am as surprised to be here as you are to see me here.

I found the little piece below in my phone Notes. It’s rather old, but I hope it helps you to see there is still kindness, and sometimes it’s hidden, just waiting to be discovered.

The Folded Over Tape

I opened the hood to put in washer fluid and I saw it. The engine insulator on the underside of the hood chewed through, creating a small opening with a pocket that was mouse-sized. 

I stood there, stunned, weighing my options, which included staring at the damage and not knowing what to do.

“What are you doing?” was the question I heard to my right. I was expecting him for the second opinion on that job that I needed done. Oh, and the new thermostat.

“Well, I was putting in washer fluid and now…” I waved my hands in the general direction of the damage. “Look at this fucking mess! What is this?”

“Mice,” he said casually while he pressed the washer fluid lid. I had already closed the lid. 

“So do I have to get this entire insulation replaced?” My exasperation started to show. Dollar signs flashed and started adding up in my mind’s eye. The second opinion I was waiting for could save me thousands of dollars or possibly just make it worse. And now this.

“Nah. Just put some duct tape on it.”

I was not convinced. My eyes narrowed. 

“Won’t the duct tape melt from the warmth of the engine?”

“Nah.” 

”You’re sure. My engine is not going to catch on fire?” 

“Nope. Just check on it from time to time.” 

That option sounded much better than an entire replacement of the insulation so I made myself acquiesce to the idea of duct tape.

We headed for the house – him with the thermostat and me making a bee line for the duct tape, which is really Gorilla tape, because the store was out of duct tape when I went last time, and I don’t particularly enjoy shopping for duct tape. 

I grabbed the tape out of the junk drawer and mentioned the three figure price that was quoted to me to install a new thermostat that costs less than $50. I worked at finding the end of the tape for several minutes as we discussed the absurdity of a three figure thermostat installation. I finally gave up on the tape, not being able to get the end up and having to shift focus to explain what was found in my electrical box, and what I needed a second opinion on.

He inspected all of the questionable items I was told I needed to replace, and only found that I needed to apply caulk so water would stop leaking inside. I would stop smelling that “wet water” smell on the landing – you know, that smell that is a cross between moldy and mildewy. 

“Just get some caulk the next time you’re out. I don’t have any in my truck.”

I nodded, understanding my assignment. We went back inside so he could look at the estimate from the other company. “Well, this isn’t too bad,” he said mildly as you scanned the first page. 

”Turn it over,” I said, in a monotone.

I prepared myself for the response I knew was coming once that page was flipped. “What?! That’s way too much money. I would do it for half of this, and you don’t even need it. There’s nothing wrong. You just need to put some caulk on the outside so the water doesn’t get in. The electrical box is fine. Everything was replaced with top-of-the-line stuff and you’re not going to need anything.”

“Just caulk.” I reiterated.

“Just caulk.”

I couldn’t fully express my relief, but a $5000 weight was lifted off of my shoulders. He wouldn’t take any money for the thermostat, but I insisted. 

I thanked him and he went on his way, but not before he told me the other company was ripping people off. He wondered aloud if he should be charging that much and gave it a brief thought. “No, I could never do that to people,” he said. I believe it.

The hood of my car was still up. I remembered about the duct tape. Excuse me – the Gorilla tape. I had left it on the edge of the couch so I wouldn’t forget to come outside and repair the damage. And also so I wouldn’t forget to close the hood of my car. I grabbed the tape, ready to try to pry the end of the tape away from the roll yet again. I was preparing the vulgarities in the front of my brain so they could exit out of my mouth much more quickly and then I noticed something as I started fumbling with the role of tape.

The edge of the tape was folded over neatly, about a quarter of an inch, so I would be able to grab it without fighting. I smiled and returned the vulgar language to the back of my brain and headed out to complete my job, grateful for the afternoon’s events. And folded over Gorilla tape. 

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