I appreciate anyone who finds artistry in their job, no matter what it is. Like the person who carves those little pads of butter into roses. Or the folks who fold the ends of the toilet paper into little points at hotels.

So imagine my pleasure when Esquavel, the guy who cleaned my carpet, finished off his handiwork with a flourish in my stairwell.

He told me he thought I would appreciate it.

Indeed I did, Esquavel, indeed I did.

Thanks. Next time, can you do Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” at the foot of the bed in the master?