Porter and Nico and I stood upon the roof to sweep the chimney clear of last year's soot and creosote.  Nico was nervously pleased to be aloft and Porter was ecstatic (since I'm typically pretty cool to his plans to get atop the house).  He looked over the domain and said wistfully, "I wish I could come up here every midnight."  Then he fell silent, thinking I know not what.  It may be I'll have to relent despite the wear on the shingles.  I had Porter tie the knots upon the gear.  He has the knack for rope that I never have.  And sure enough his fisherman's knots held up through all the pulling and tugging and yanking as we swept that chimney brush up and down the flue.