I work in a small suburban office park. The "plaza" in which we lease our offices is comprised of one-story buildings, rather like my own mental idea of a "medical plaza". The look is not like one of those southern California tropical gardens with buildings interspersed between the plants. The look instead looks more "office park in Texas". Crepe myrtle trees in front, a hedge to the side, a Church of God in Christ unobtrusively experiencing spiritual gifts in one of the spaces, holding forth pentecostally until two in the afternoon on Sundays.
This week the work crew hired by our landlord began replacing the roof on our building. The operation thus far works very much according to plan. The landlord thoughtfully advised us of the coming inconvenience. The roof guys did another building in good time, and made progress on our building yesterday.
I liked the machine that generated power to fuel the roofing tar up to the roof from the ground. Its all-encompassing mechanical hum proved appealing not repellent. From within my office, the gentle clomp-clomp of workers' boots amounted to interesting sidelights rather than endless distractions.
I like to tackle my own projects, within and without, with the same spirit--notice to all of potential inconvenience, sure-handed work on the bare patches, efficient machines and the gentlest clomp imaginable.