At 7:12 on a Saturday morning, the first crash sounded like a cabinet falling down a flight of stairs. A second followed, then the scrape of splintered wood across the driveway. On a quiet cul-de-sac in Pasadena, Maya Chen had begun the renovation she had planned for years—and discovered that old houses can hide a remarkable amount of old stuff.
By breakfast, the garage held cracked plaster, warped shelves, broken tile, and a tangle of lumber. By lunch, the pile had spilled toward the sidewalk. Maya looked from the debris to the narrow street, where neighbors were already maneuvering around parked cars, and asked her contractor the question that had been on her mind since the first wall came down.
