Our Instagram post last night was a little vague on purpose. We’d hit a particularly frustrating stretch while working on the beach duplex down the street from our pink beach house: two discouraging setbacks arrived within about ten hours, and we were still in that raw “why is this happening?!” place. We try to be honest about the ugly parts of renovations, not just the pretty reveals—things like missing a timeline, breaking a budget, or accidentally demolishing a cherished ceramic animal. Renovating rarely feels like a straight line, and sometimes it’s worth sharing the hard parts along with the wins.
On a bad-news day you often don’t have the energy to dive into every detail. You’re still somewhere between outrage and exhaustion, and the best you can muster is an honest, mildly grumpy note about how renovations aren’t always easy—while reminding yourself there’s still plenty to be grateful for, like family, health, pets, tiny house-shaped vases, and cookies. Note: many cookies were harmed in the making of our evening meltdown last night.
After sleep and a few calmer hours, perspective returned and we realized we do have a Plan B that’s already in motion—albeit moving slowly, like an optimistic sloth. Here’s what’s going on with the duplex we’ve been trying to renovate.
We discussed some of the behind-the-scenes hurdles on our podcast a few weeks back. Compared with the pink house project, simple steps have become unexpectedly complicated this time. For the pink house we were able to pull permits and begin quickly; for the duplex, we’ve been trying to secure a permit since November while the building is sitting unaddressed and slowly deteriorating.
The key complication is that we’re proposing exterior changes, so the town’s Historic Review Board needs to approve them. Most adjustments are minor—tweaks to the porch railing and stairs, for example—but the biggest proposed change involved the roof. Right now the roof is essentially flat; we hoped to increase its pitch and add a dormer. A steeper pitch would shed water better and allow a more economical, more reliable asphalt shingle roof instead of a costly, sometimes-problematic flat roof system. Plus, most homes in the historic district aren’t flat-roofed, so we thought the change would help the duplex blend in better with its neighbors.
The dormer was largely cosmetic—many similar homes in the historic district already have the exact roof pitch and dormer we proposed. We missed the November review meeting by a hair, and December was skipped for the holidays, so January 16th was the first time we could present. Our contractor Sean, who has experience with the board and presented multiple projects that night, spoke for us. He’s meticulous about historical details and only proposes what he expects to pass.
So it was a gut punch when our proposal was denied. We waited months for that meeting and then got turned down. Sean called after the meeting clearly surprised and frustrated. At first it sounded like the vote might go our way, but in the end it didn’t. We were stunned because other, more dramatic alterations around town seemed to have sailed through approval.
We don’t begrudge the board—protecting the town’s character is their role. But we were only asking for changes that many nearby homes have already made. Even so, the dormer was the sticking point. We immediately moved to Plan B: remove the dormer and propose a slightly less pitched roof. That option was mentioned favorably in the meeting, so we’re optimistic. However, because the board only meets monthly, the earliest we can re-present is their February 25th meeting. If it’s approved then, a new 30-day waiting period they’ve started this year pushes the actual permit issuance into late March—possibly April. For a project we’ve been itching to fix since November, a five-month delay is frustrating.
Losing the dormer is disappointing, but it’s not the end of the world. It reduces cost and simplifies the approval path. We plan to focus on the many other improvements that will transform the duplex: widening the stairs, installing historically accurate, beefier pillars and railing, refreshing the exterior with white siding and mint-green shutters, and restoring the diamond-grilled window at the top center. The board had no issue with those changes, so barring unexpected complications, the revisions should move forward smoothly.
We also faced an immediate financial scare when a subcontractor provided an unexpectedly high quote. After a few panicked calls we found another subcontractor we’ve used before who can meet our budget—so that crisis passed, but it added to the day’s stress. Renovation project management often feels like navigating a maze while wearing mismatched pajamas—frustrating, comical, and exhausting all at once.
We expected curveballs, but it still stung—especially since this house is literally next door to one we renovated without these early headaches. Still, as Veronica Dearly wisely said: You can do hard things (after you’ve had your freakout). We had ours last night. Today we’re regrouped, making calls, and following leads to possibly reduce the newly imposed waiting periods. We’re hopeful we can move faster than the current timeline suggests.
In closing: sharing the frustrations publicly isn’t fun, but it’s real—real costs, real schedules, and real disappointment. It would feel disingenuous to act like everything is fine when it isn’t. We’re human, and yes, we consume an impressive number of cookies while mourning a dormer and a busted timeline. But we remain optimistic. With Plan B in place and several other great improvements ahead, this duplex is still on track to become a lovely, restored part of the historic neighborhood. We’ll keep you posted as the next steps unfold.