At 4:17 on a Friday afternoon, a cracked blue dresser stood in the middle of a driveway in Pasadena, blocking the path to the garage. Around it lay a dismantled bookshelf, a torn rug, and the dusty remains of a home renovation that had stretched from one weekend into three months. The sky was turning apricot over the San Gabriel Mountains. In the house, a toddler was asking for dinner. On the sidewalk, a neighbor was trying to squeeze past the growing pile.
