Not sure I totally buy into the “just accept imperfection” mindset, at least not all the time. Yeah, old houses will fight you every step of the way, but I’ve had some luck getting things pretty tight with rigid foam panels and a bit of patience. Spray foam’s great, but sometimes it gets messy or just doesn’t fill right, especially in those weird corners.
I get that chasing a perfect seal can turn into a time sink, but I’ve noticed that even small gaps can add up if you let too many slide. Had one place where I thought “close enough” was fine, and then come winter, there was this one drafty spot that drove me nuts for months. Ended up tearing out a section and redoing it. Maybe I’m just stubborn, but I think it’s worth pushing for as close to airtight as you can get, even if it takes a bit longer. Those bills drop, sure, but so does the noise and the random cold spots. Just my two cents...
- I get where you’re coming from, but man, chasing that “airtight” dream in some of these old places can eat up your whole weekend (and sanity).
- Sometimes, a little imperfection is just the price of keeping your hair and wallet intact.
- I’ve had tenants who never noticed a thing, even with a few gaps here and there.
- Sure, bills drop if you go full perfectionist, but at what cost? I’d rather spend that extra time finding my next deal... or maybe just napping.
- Not saying ignore the big stuff, but sometimes “good enough” really is good enough.
Not saying ignore the big stuff, but sometimes “good enough” really is good enough.
Couldn’t agree more with this. I used to get all worked up about tiny drafts behind baseboards or that one weird window nobody even opens. Here’s how I look at it now: focus on the spots where you actually feel a breeze or see daylight—that’s where you get the most bang for your buck and sanity.
If you’re tackling insulation in an older house, I’d break it down like this:
1. Prioritize attic and basement/crawl—those are usually the worst offenders.
2. Hit obvious gaps around doors and windows with some foam or weatherstripping.
3. If you’ve still got energy (and patience), move on to outlets, pipes, and random nooks.
I spent a whole weekend once chasing every little gap in a 1920s rental... tenants never noticed, but I sure did when my back was sore for a week. Honestly, after the main trouble spots are sealed up, I’d rather spend my time rehabbing kitchens or hunting for deals. Perfection’s overrated—aim for solid, not flawless.
I’ve definitely fallen into the “seal every single crack” trap before, and honestly, it’s a slippery slope. Years ago, I got obsessed with chasing drafts in a 1915 bungalow—pulled off baseboards, caulked like a maniac, even stuffed insulation behind every outlet. By the end, I’d spent way more time and money than the owners ever expected, and the difference wasn’t nearly as dramatic as I hoped.
Now, I’m all about balance. There’s something to be said for leaving a little character in an old house, you know? Those quirks are part of the charm. Plus, once you’ve handled the big offenders (attic, basement, and those ancient windows that rattle in the wind), you usually see a solid improvement in comfort and bills. Chasing perfection just isn’t worth sacrificing your weekends or sanity.
If anything, I’d rather put that extra energy into making a room feel inviting or playing with color and texture. Insulation’s important, but it’s not the only thing that makes a house feel like home.
Chasing perfection just isn’t worth sacrificing your weekends or sanity.
Couldn’t agree more. I once spent a whole summer trying to “perfect” the insulation in my 1920s place—crawling around with a flashlight, foam, and a caulk gun. At some point, I realized I was just making myself crazy over tiny gaps that probably didn’t matter much. Like you said, hit the big stuff first and call it good. There’s always going to be a draft or two in these old houses, but that’s part of their story.
