Life in the 416|Up in the Backyard|My Humble Part of North York

I was kneeling on the driveway with a box of tarps, watching rainwater bead on the hood of my wife's car, when the demolition crew texted to say they would start upstairs Monday at 7 a.m. My brain did the thing it always does under stress: jumped to the worst-case scenario. Dust in baby toys. Mud tracked through the living room. Neighbours complaining about noise. The house still smelled faintly of old grout and frying oil from the 1990s kitchen we finally decided to gut af

I was sitting at the kitchen table, three contractor quotes spread out like a sad little fan, and my kid was hammering a plastic truck on the original 1990s countertop because he thinks everything is a drum. One quote said $40,000, another $110,000. I had coffee gone cold, sawdust on the windowsill from a demo crew that showed up last week and left mid-day, and an inbox full of messages from people who "might be able to start next month." It felt like being stuck between th