This is a weatherhead:
The contrivance at the top of the conduit keeps water out of the electrics of your home.
Years ago, I worked for a plumbing and electrical supply company, and often waited upon several codgerly electricians. One of them, Phelix Appleton, was of the "wet your finger and stick it in the socket to see if it was live" school. Phelix upon learning my name, dubbed me "Weatherhead". Sadly, this became prophetic, as I now have a weatherman living in my head, who painfully alerts me to high-pressure fronts moving through our area. This week I have had three days of it, two of which put me in bed, as all of my attention was fixed upon the Offending Sinus.
Hamlet's "thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to" comes to mind.
The storms presaged by this offense to my person are almost here. I await them with great gladness. It has been a decade since I have had to contend with this particular thing. Thankfully, it is less frequent; aspirin and phenylephrine go a long way toward masking the symptoms. I suspect it has been the hot, dry N. Alabamastan weather that has set up the situation this summer.
November weather is starting to sound REALLY good about now.
I have an amusing piece in the works for in a day-or-so. Also, Blog radio is on the horizon
I hope that your summers have been good, and that you are well and safe. The political landscape begins to resemble Hiroshima, post-A Bomb. Maybe THAT'S where the headaches are REALLY coming from.