The church across the street is in the process of having their roof
repaired. It's one of those flat jobs, hence tar is involved. Loads of
hot, stinky tar are being slathered on the church's roof as I write
this. You know, to make sure it doesn't leak
when the snow starts flying and subsequently piles up. Of course, the
smell this hot tar creates is wafting across the street and in through
the windows of the Cake Eater apartment on what would otherwise be a
delightfully mellow Indian Summer breeze were it not for this smell.
Gag. Which leads to the question of the day: would it be really bad of
me to turn on the AC even though it's only seventy degrees outside?