Watching the water seep in
It started as a small, damp patch on the wall corner near my bedroom window. I honestly didn’t think much of it at first. I blamed the heavy rain during the monsoon season and figured it would dry out once the sun came back. But after the third consecutive day of downpours, the patch turned into a dark, stubborn stain. I touched it, and it was cold and slightly slimy. That was when I realized the water wasn’t just coming from the air; it was actively making its way through the frame. My living room in Busan felt like a humid cave, and I realized my procrastination was starting to rot the wallpaper.
Trying to find the right material
I went to a local hardware store, the kind where the aisles are packed tight and you have to ask the owner where everything is. I asked for ‘silicone for windows,’ and he handed me a tube of basic construction-grade silicone. It cost me about 8,000 won. I thought that was all I needed. I didn’t realize there were so many types—neutral cure, acetic cure, paintable, weather-resistant. I just grabbed the one that looked like it would stick to anything. Standing there in the aisle, looking at the different nozzles and guns, I felt like I was picking out medical supplies for a surgery I wasn’t qualified to perform. I also bought a masking tape roll and a small spatula, just to feel prepared.
The reality of hanging off a ladder
Starting the actual work was far more terrifying than the online videos made it look. My apartment is on the 7th floor. When I leaned out to scrape off the old, peeling rubber, the wind caught the edge of my work glove, and I froze. The old sealant was brittle and snapped off in jagged, grey chunks, leaving behind gaps that looked way bigger than I expected. Scraping the old stuff out took nearly two hours because I was terrified of dropping my tools. My neighbor came out to his balcony to smoke and just stared at me for a minute before walking back inside. I don’t blame him; I probably looked like a liability. The height, combined with the gusty wind, made me realize that professional crews probably aren’t overcharging as much as I thought.
Applying the new sealant
Once the gap was ‘clean enough,’ I started squeezing the trigger on the caulk gun. It wasn’t smooth. The silicone came out in irregular blobs, and I struggled to keep a consistent bead along the frame. Halfway through, I ran out of steam, and my hand started shaking. I didn’t have enough masking tape, so the edges turned out messy, leaving streaks of clear gunk on the glass. I spent the next thirty minutes trying to wipe it off with a damp rag, which just made the silicone smear further. It looks better than it did—no big gaps—but it definitely doesn’t look like a professional job. It looks like what it is: a Saturday afternoon project done by someone who had no business being on a ladder.
The lingering doubt
It’s been two weeks since I finished, and we’ve had some light showers since then. No water is coming in yet, which is a relief, but every time the wind howls against the glass, I find myself standing there, staring at the seal, wondering if I missed a micro-crack somewhere. I keep checking the wall corner, waiting for that damp patch to return. I’m not confident. I still have about half a tube of silicone left under the kitchen sink, but I’m hesitant to use it anywhere else. I’m starting to think that even if this holds for now, I might just end up calling a specialized window company next year to redo the whole thing properly. The uncertainty of whether it will hold through a typhoon is far more annoying than the initial leak was.
That glove situation sounds incredibly unsettling – I can totally picture the wind and the freeze. The feeling of suddenly realizing you’ve vastly underestimated a DIY job is a really common one, especially when height is involved.