This morning I was on the porch roof lathering cold patch into the cracks in the hardened tar pit up there. A few weeks ago, I'd already managed to hide the worst of the damage caused by our 28 ninety degree days this summer but it is supposed to rain tomorrow -- a lot -- for the first time since April or May so I figured the job had to be finished. Besides, we need the rain and last September, the day after I did the roof we got a 6 inch downpour. No kidding.

I wouldn't have been on the roof doing my repair rain dance if it wasn't flat because I don't like heights. Beyond the third rung of the ladder the atmosphere gets thin. I stayed hunkered down, and well away from the edge, as I slapped tarry gobs wherever I spotted wood.

I was smack in front of the office window before I noticed our cat lounging on the sill. Sabrina's an inside cat. Who knows what she imagines the outdoors to be.

She raised her head and looked at me. I stared back.

Shock! Horror! Master's on the wrong side!

Or so I would've thought. Instead she regarded me for a moment with total disinterest, put her head down and resumed dozing. Heck, it's not like I'm on the roof every day. You'd think it would've been worth some reaction.

I guess nothing I do anymore surprises that cat.