Our post on Instagram last night was intentionally short and a little vague. We’d had a frustrating day, hit by two duplex-related setbacks within about ten hours, and we weren’t ready to unpack everything in the moment. We try to be honest about the highs and lows of renovating — the missed timelines, the busted budgets, and the weird little accidents that happen along the way — so when things feel raw, we don’t want to post something falsely cheerful. Instead we shared a blunt, annoyed update about how renovations are messy, but that we still have a lot to be grateful for: family, health, pets, tiny house-shaped vases, and yes, cookies. Note: many cookies were consumed during last night’s meltdown.
After a night’s sleep and some perspective, we’re clearer and ready to share more details. We have a Plan B in motion — slow, but moving — and we wanted to explain what happened with the beach duplex we’re trying to renovate down the street from our pink beach house.
We discussed some of the early obstacles on our podcast (Episode #76) and later episodes, but those hurdles kept multiplying. Tasks that were straightforward when we renovated the pink house are unexpectedly complicated here. For example, we’ve been trying to secure a permit since November; when we renovated the pink house, pulling the permit was easy and quick. Meanwhile, the duplex is not getting any cleaner or less moldy while we wait.
The main complication is that we proposed exterior changes that require approval from the town’s Historic Review Board — mostly modest tweaks like adjusting the front porch railing and stairs. The most significant change we requested was to the roof: raise the pitch and add a dormer. Right now the roof is nearly flat; increasing the slope will improve water runoff and let us use a more affordable asphalt shingle roof instead of an expensive rubber or metal flat roof that can be problematic. A pitched roof also fits better with the character of the historic district, where flat roofs are uncommon.
The dormer was mostly a charm detail — many similar historic homes in town already have the same roof pitch and dormer we suggested. We missed the November review meeting by a tiny margin and December’s meeting was postponed for the holidays, so our first available hearing was January 16th. Our contractor Sean presented for us; he knows the board well and usually proposes designs that are likely to pass, so we felt confident going in.
So we were stunned when our proposal was denied. After months of waiting, the board turned us down. Sean called afterward, and his voice showed how surprised and frustrated he was. It had sounded like the vote might go our way, but in the end they rejected the roof changes. That felt especially baffling because there are examples around town of similar or more substantial renovations that were approved.
We don’t fault the board for protecting the town’s historic character — that’s their role. But we were trying to do something consistent with neighboring homes, and it was discouraging to have it rejected when similar projects were accepted elsewhere.
We immediately shifted into Plan B: drop the dormer and propose a modestly pitched roof without it. Even with that concession, we must wait until the next review meeting on February 25th to present the revised plan. If it’s approved then, a new policy requires a further 30-day waiting period before a permit is issued, pushing our earliest start date to around March 25th. In short, what was supposed to be a short delay has become a multi-month hold — frustrating after wanting to begin work since November.
We’re sad to lose the dormer, but we’re shifting focus to the many other improvements we plan: widening the stairs, installing historically accurate pillars and railings, using white siding with mint-green shutters, and restoring the diamond-grilled window in the upper center of the house. The board had no issues with those elements and even mentioned favoring a simpler pitched roof at the meeting, so we’re hopeful our revised proposal will pass.
We also faced an unexpected financial blow: a subcontractor’s very high quote. After several stressful hours of calls, we found another subcontractor we’ve used before who can do the job within our budget. Discovering that solution helped, but it added to the sense that the day was cursed from the start — small crisis after small crisis.
We expected curveballs, but it’s disorienting when they arrive before any demolition has even begun. Still, we take comfort in a line that’s been helpful to us lately: you can do hard things — after you freak out about them. Last night we freaked out. Today we’re regrouped and ready to move forward.
We’re already pursuing options to shorten the new waiting period and have a few calls out to people who might help. Whenever the duplex is finally finished — whether it’s next year or a bit later — we’re confident it will be a beautiful, well-considered renovation. We’re excited about the plans we’ve drawn up and grateful for the opportunity to restore this piece of the historic district.
Finally: sharing setbacks publicly isn’t fun, but it’s real — real budgets, real timelines, real disappointment. Pretending everything is fine wouldn’t feel honest. We’re human, and yes, we ate a lot of cookies while mourning a dormer. Now we’re back to work, regrouped and determined to make this duplex something special.