Hear that noise? That really loud noise up above my head? That’s Batman, shoveling the old shingles off my roof. And after a while, the noise will change to hammering. That will be Batman nailing new shingles to my roof.

With most of the old shingles gone, I can see swirly places on the bare roof. One of them looks like Munch’s “The Scream, if you tilt your head sideways and use your imagination. A lot of imagination.

Why don’t I own a camera any more? I could take a picture of the Scream and post it on the internet and idiots would think my roof was a miraculous shrine, and they would flock to my yard to gaze in worshipful wonder at this spot on my roof, and I could tell them that donations would allow them to actually HEAR the “Scream,” and that hearing the “Scream” would heal their acne, foot fungus, pinkeye, and liver spots. And if I fleeced the stupid faithful for enough money, maybe I wouldn’t have to sell the house after all.

I need a camera! Darn all those other cameras in my life for leaping out of my hands and onto hard surfaces or into water. (After that, they’re no darn good.)

And now the sun is drying out the swirly spots and soon the ‘Scream’ will be gone, and nobody will ever believe it was there.

But you and I will always know that on that particular spot of roof, underneath those spiffy new shingles, a weird swirly piece of wood a work of art is hiding.

And when I get the bill, I shall Scream.

Oh, and Batman really is putting on my roof. That’s a common name here. I kid you not. Accent on the first syllable.

. . . . channeling the Spiderman conversation from ‘Friends’. . . .