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Dorchester Center, MA 02124

Committed home renovators David and Andrew Harrison-Coley (better known on Instagram as The Home Boys) are part of Ideal Home’s new Open House contributors, sharing their thoughts on creating a home together and experiencing the hard parts. Check out their other articles here.
When people ask how the renovation is going, they usually mean one of three things: is it expensive, are we almost done, and is it worth it?
These are fair questions. Repair visible. Rooms are being made, materials are arriving, budgets are being stretched and deadlines are being pushed. It feels measurable from the outside.
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What we didn’t expect – as we transitioned from the large structural build to the redesign of the original cottage – was how mentally consuming it would be.
Because while the renovation is physical and financial, the part that surprised us the most wasn’t the plaster dust or the supplies. This is constant decision making.
Not just flagship solutions like installing structural glazing or tying in a new layout. It’s a steady stream of smaller choices that quietly fill each week.
(Image credit: The Home Boys)
Just in the last few months we have been discussing the tone of the oak flooring passing through the corridor and atrium, the exact shadow of paint to sit on old beams and whether to redo the terra cotta – even knowing how laborious it is to lay them.
None of these decisions are dramatic individually. But layered together, they start to feel heavier than you expect.
You confirm an order in the morning. Answer a builder with another answer during lunch. Spend the evening comparing two nearly identical coatings online. By the end of the week, you’re not necessarily tired of the work—you’re tired of the choices.
We realized that renovation is as much a mental as a practical marathon.
(Image credit: The Home Boys)
Decision fatigue doesn’t usually come with a bang. It appears quietly.
That’s when you start to question something you’ve felt completely certain about—like redoing terracotta floors because they worked so beautifully in our last home, or choosing glazing that reflects what we loved before. It’s the voice that asks if you’re playing it too safe. Or it’s not safe enough.
There have been nights where we’ve revisited decisions we’ve already made, not because they’re wrong, but because we’re just exhausted.
Over time, we’ve learned that the real risk isn’t making the “wrong” choice. Trust is lost in those we have already made.
And in a long repair, trust is a surprisingly important fuel.
(Image credit: The Home Boys)
As the project develops, so do we.
We started to create small boundaries around decision making. We try not to confirm expensive orders late at night. We give ourselves space before committing to anything structural. We’ve naturally divided responsibilities – one of us taking the lead on flooring and materials, the other on budgets and logistics – so that not every choice feels like a joint debate.
It hasn’t eliminated the decisions, but it has reduced the mental load.
And whether you’re renovating alone or with someone else, it feels key. Not every choice needs to be explored endlessly. Not every room has to be perfect before you move on. Sometimes momentum is more important than microscopic optimization.
(Image credit: The Home Boys)
One of the most liberating realizations is that we don’t need to reinvent ourselves with every room.
Going back to the materials we loved before – terra cotta underfoot, vintage pieces layered in newer spaces, warm neutrals that soften both the old cottage walls and the new extension – gave us a sense of clarity.
There’s something comforting about recognizing your own design language and staying within it.
Calms the noise. This makes the next decision easier because you’re building on something familiar instead of chasing something new.
And in a world where trends move quickly, that familiarity can feel grounding.
(Image credit: The Home Boys)
There are still weeks when everything is in order. When three fields require answers at once. When budgets get tight and the stakes feel higher. When balancing work, life and a hallway that still needs flooring.
The house is not finished. It might not be a while. But we stopped expecting the upgrade to feel simple.
The dust settles. Budgets are flexible. The rooms are slowly reaching a point where they feel settled – even if the wider project continues.
What we learn to protect most carefully now is not just the house. This is our energy and our confidence in the process.
Because behind every “before and after” there are hundreds – sometimes thousands – of unseen solutions.
And maybe the real skill in renovation isn’t making perfect choices.
It learns how to keep choosing – steadily, confidently and a little more carefully each time.