"It has been said," observed my alter ego Mike as I handed him six more shingles, "that roofing is for 20-year-olds."

I heartily agreed, for the sun was directly up in the air, which I didn't think could happen at this latitude, and it had heated the roof of our new porch to 168 degrees Fahrenheit as studied with my Harbor Freight infrared thermometer.

We were working with our usual division of labor on the porch project: boss and unskilled helper. While Mike was up on the roof frying, my job was to scamper up and down the ladder handing him shingles and nails. Shingles are 3 feet big and a foot wide, and they're heavy: a bale of 27 weighs 75 pounds. So I carried them up six at a time flopped over my shove, so limp were they from the heat.

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