Little by Little

One of the joys of my life is my office and the building where my office is.


One hundred years old or so, it simply feeds me. Every time I walk up the (many) steps to my little spot, I am blissed and I feel blessed. I can tell the passage of the hours as the smells and sounds change. From some Mexican breakfast scent in the kitchen very early (most likely Gustavo's) to the voices of kids learning to sing and play music after school... I just LOVE it.


About two weeks ago, I found Maria - who owns the building and serves as a bit of a den mother to us all - wearing her impeccable skirt and kneeling down with a brush as she was applying paint to the third story's wooden floor.


I thought she was just doing a little touch up.


The next morning, there she was again, adding brushstrokes of paint next  to the ones she had made yesterday.


Jokingly, I asked if she was going to paint the whole floor this way.


"Oh sure" she said.


????


My mind instantly went into efficient mode. I was about to suggest a roller. I was about to suggest 5 rollers, in fact. I just knew that with a couple of phone calls I could get a few teenagers up here getting the job done in an hour.


But then she said: "Little by little. That's my style."


I could feel my whole body and mind shift as I knew that she was sharing something important with me. Something foreign, too.


So, it has been about two weeks and every morning I get to discover a new little patch of fresh paint and a new place for the "Wet Paint" sign.


No rush, no stress - the building IS 100 years old, really. What's the hurry?