Do you ever wonder if anyone else even notices those wobbly lines? I swear I see every single one, but my partner just shrugs and says it looks fine.
This is so relatable. I’ll spend way too long obsessing over a little drip or crooked bead, but when friends come over, they’re just happy the draft is gone. My neighbor once told me, “If you can’t see it from the street, it’s perfect,” and honestly... that’s become my motto. I tried the blue tape trick too—just ended up making a bigger mess and swearing at the goo. Sometimes ‘good enough’ really is good enough.
Sometimes ‘good enough’ really is good enough.
Totally get this. I used to be super picky about every little caulk line, but after fighting with a sticky tube and getting more on my hands than the window, I’ve chilled out. Most of the time, nobody even notices unless you point it out. One thing I wish I’d known: getting the old window out is way messier than putting the new one in. Dust everywhere, and those little bits of wood trim never fit back quite right... but hey, as long as it keeps the rain out, I'm calling it a win.
Totally hear you on the trim never sitting quite right again. I spent ages trying to get mine flush and just gave up after the third round of sanding and caulking. At a certain point, you realize nobody’s coming in with a magnifying glass, right? As long as it’s sealed and looks halfway decent, you’re ahead of the game. Sometimes you just have to embrace the “lived in” look... adds character, if you ask me.
That makes me feel a lot better, honestly. I keep looking at the corners on my first window and thinking there’s no way I’ll ever get everything perfectly flush. Tried filling, sanding, even a little wood putty, but at some point I just had to accept it wasn’t going to look like the original trim. Like you said, as long as there aren’t any gaps where air or water can get in, it’s probably fine.
I was getting pretty frustrated seeing all these “after” photos online where everything looks showroom perfect. In real life, especially in an older house like mine (built in the 60s), nothing is truly square anyway. I guess it’s just learning to let go of perfection and focus on function. Sealed up? Check. No drafts? Check. The rest is just... character, right?
That’s exactly how I felt doing my first window. I’d measure and re-measure, try to get the corners lined up, and still end up with little gaps or places where the trim just didn’t sit flush. You hit the nail on the head—older houses are never square. Mine’s a ’72 ranch, and some of those framing angles are just wild. I started out thinking I could get everything looking like those Pinterest “after” shots, but after a few tries, I realized the pros have tricks (and maybe newer houses) we don’t.
Honestly, after I caulked everything and made sure there was no draft, I stopped stressing about perfect lines. I did learn that using flexible trim or quarter round helps hide a lot of sins, especially in those weird spots where nothing wants to line up. Plus, once you paint it all the same color, most imperfections just vanish unless you’re really looking for them.
At this point, I figure a little unevenness just adds to the story of the house. If it’s tight and dry, that’s what really matters. Those “character” marks are just proof someone cared enough to fix it up.
Can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen “character” in old trim work. You’re right—tight and dry beats perfect lines every time, especially in houses that have settled a bit. Most folks don’t realize how much caulk and paint save the day. Did you end up shimming a lot, or did you just let the trim do most of the hiding? Sometimes it’s just not worth chasing perfection if the bones are solid.
I hear you on chasing perfection—it’s just never gonna happen with an old house. When I replaced my windows, I started off trying to get every trim piece lined up perfect, but quickly realized the walls themselves were nowhere near square. Ended up shimming a few spots but honestly, caulk and paint did most of the heavy lifting. I kinda like the little quirks now… gives the place some personality.
That “nothing’s square” reality with old houses really hits home. I ran into the same thing when I tackled my own window replacement a couple of summers ago. My place was built in the 1940s, and I swear, every opening is just a suggestion of a rectangle. I tried to be precise at first—measuring, dry fitting, even double-checking with a laser level—but once I pulled the old sashes out, it was pretty obvious that perfect lines were never in the cards.
What tripped me up most was underestimating how much shimming I’d have to do. Sometimes you end up with nearly half an inch of gap on one side and almost nothing on the other, which can feel a bit alarming if you’re expecting things to just drop in. Backer rod and high-quality acrylic caulk became my best friends for those irregular voids. Honestly, the trim covers more sins than I ever thought possible.
I will say, though, if there’s one technical thing I wish I’d known ahead of time—it’s that not all expanding foams are created equal. The first can I grabbed expanded way too much and bowed one of my new jambs ever so slightly. Ended up having to pull it out and redo that section with low-expansion foam specifically made for windows and doors. If anyone’s reading this before starting their own project, pay attention to that detail! It’s easy to overlook in the hardware aisle.
But yeah, like you said, there’s something kind of charming about those little quirks once you stop fighting them. Now every time I notice a trim piece that isn’t quite flush or a sill that dips just a bit, it just reminds me of the house’s history—and my own crash course in DIY carpentry.
That foam thing is no joke—I learned the hard way too, and ended up with a window that looked like it was trying to escape the wall. One thing I wish I’d realized sooner: check your level after every shim, not just at the end. I got cocky and had to redo half my work. Also, if you think you have enough shims, you probably don’t. I went through two packs and still had to improvise with some paint stir sticks...
if you think you have enough shims, you probably don’t. I went through two packs and still had to improvise with some paint stir sticks...
Ha, I did the same thing—ended up raiding my scrap wood pile for backup shims. Here’s a step I learned the hard way: dry-fit the window with all your shims before touching any foam or screws. That saved me from having to undo a sticky mess later. Did you guys find any good tricks for getting the old window out without destroying the trim? I always seem to gouge something no matter how careful I am.