For quite a few weeks now we've had various workmen around dealing with repairs to the buildings at work and painting pretty every surface surrounding us. It must be really tough work. It's bad enough having all the painting etc to do, but having to get on with all this in a place that's buzzing with activity all hours of the day has got to involve its very own frustrating headaches. The guys doing the hard graft strike me as being amazingly patient & long-suffering.
Yesterday as I was on the way out of the main building there were three workers painting an exterior wall. They'd just finished stripping an old exterior layer of paint, a fair amount of which was lying around on the ground. As two of the guys were getting on with the painting their colleague was starting to deal with the mess. If you've ever tried to sweep up this kind of litter, as he was about to do, you'd know just how dishearteningly time-consuming his work was going to be. Glancing at the mess as I passed I tried to imagine how I would have felt faced with the prospect of having to get rid of it all. It wasn't a nice thought.
When I walked by the same area this morning it was so clean you'd have been hard-pressed to figure out anyone had been working there just a few hours before.