Let's be honest: when you buy a modern condo with one of those beautiful, airy open-concept layouts, you're buying a fantasy. The fantasy of effortless entertaining, of light flooding every corner, of a life unconstrained by walls. That was the fantasy my wife and I bought into with our new downtown apartment. The reality, which hit us around week two, was a constant, low-grade tension. My "home office" at the elegant, minimalist desk was, in fact, just the far end of the living room, five feet from the blender and ten feet from the stovetop. The breaking point wasn't dramatic. It was a Tuesday. I was on a critical video call with a new client. In the background, perfectly framed in my webcam, was my wife, innocently chopping onions for dinner. The rhythmic thump-thump-thump on the cutting board became a percussive accompaniment to my pitch. The client, politely, asked if I was cooking. The fantasy of seamless, multi-functional living was cracking. THE RESEARC...