At 7:12 on a Saturday morning, Elena stood in the driveway of her family’s Pasadena home, staring at a mountain of broken cabinets, dusty carpet, and lumber that seemed to grow taller every time she looked away. The old kitchen had finally come apart. The new one was waiting to take its place. Between them sat the mess—and a narrow driveway, a neighbor’s parked car, and a city street already filling with weekend traffic.
