“Gray foam rope,” she said. “You push it into the deep cracks first. It gives the caulk something to lean against. Think of it as the rebar for your weatherproofing.”
That night, armed with a putty knife, a caulk gun, and a damp rag, he began.
It started as a whisper last November. By February, the whisper had become a thin, cold blade that sliced across his ankles as he drank his coffee. The heating bill had climbed to an indecent number. The problem, he finally realized one frosted morning, was the cracks. Hairline fractures in the old putty, gaps between the wooden sash and the frame, a small, traitorous space where the sill met the wall. how to seal cracks around windows
He finished the last window at sunset. He stood back, waiting for the draft. Nothing. Just the solid, quiet containment of warm air. He poured a glass of scotch and sat in his chair. The room was still. The heating system clicked off and did not click back on for a very long time.
He scraped away the old, crumbling putty that resembled dried-out bread crust. He vacuumed the dust, the dead ladybugs, the tiny bones of some unidentifiable insect. The window looked raw, almost embarrassed by its own decay. “Gray foam rope,” she said
So he went to the hardware store.
Ernest blinked. “Backer rod?”
He was not a handy man. Ernest was a retired editor of Latin American poetry. His tools were metaphor and meter, not caulk guns and putty knives. But the draft had become a personal insult.