I went and picked up the correct stuff the next day, but my self-confidence was shattered. I knew better than to not read the box; clearly my critical thinking skills are still compromised by grief. So, I called the guy who'd given me the advice to seal the bottom edge of the walls, and hired him to do the work.
He was busy, but wanted me to be able to use my shower, so squeezed me into his busy schedule, and came out last Saturday morning to do the work. Now, my caulking skills are pretty good, but the skills needed to put down a perfect line of silicone caulk are not among those I have perfected, so I asked him if I could watch him work. He agreed, and so I sat down, ready to learn.
Sadly, what I learned is that this young man of good intentions and good heart, when overextended and rushing, was not able to access the patience and attention to detail needed to work with the finicky caulk.
He didn't carefully look into all parts of the cavity - red flag #1. I mean, I know I cleaned it well, but he doesn't know me. He didn't know if I'd really cleaned all the unsuitable stuff out, and silicone caulk won't adhere to other caulk.
Then, I watched with some dismay as he stuffed layers of caulk and backer rod into the cavity beneath the wall - red flag #2. The work he did wasn't going to hurt anything, but it also wasn't going to help - there was no way he'd created a solid line of defense. Water doesn't care if you've blocked the greater portion of its path back to the earth. It WILL find the gaps and wend its way as the Maker intended.
By this time, I wasn't surprised to watch him skip the prep steps I'd have done for that final, oh-so-visible line of caulk, but I was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, figuring there's a lot I don't know about ways to do things.
Nope. He was getting silicone everywhere. After watching for another fifteen minutes, I couldn't watch any longer. I left the room, hoping against hope he'd be able to get it cleaned up.
He worked alone for another bit, then came downstairs. He told me he'd done what he could for the day, and would be back the next afternoon to do cleanup. No, no payment required just yet.
Once he drove down the street, I went upstairs to take a look, and heaved a heavy sigh. Perhaps three of them. More, even. The work was a total loss.
Silicone caulk is a much messier cleanup than acrylic, and it took me the remainder of the evening to undo what he'd done. As I worked, I had lots of time to think about my part in the whole mess.
Why did I ignore those red flags? Why didn't I speak up, ask questions, assert myself? Why did I just passively sit there and watch him waste his time, my time, and $40 worth of caulk? Why is part of me still convinced I am not allowed to voice my truth? Why, when faced with a momentary lapse in my judgement, did I decide to give up on myself?
Tough questions. I do know this is not how I want to be.
I finished the cleanup Sunday morning, and put down my own line of fresh caulk. It's not up to my OCDness standards, but I learned one more thing that will make my next attempt look better. The bead is clean enough to keep the water on the shower side of the wall, which is what really matters here.
Now, I have to wait until Wednesday to test the fix; I want to be sure to give the caulk a chance to properly cure before getting it wet.
Fingers (impatiently) crossed!
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