Like an inchworm

I don't know that I've ever gotten a new blouse after finding an inchworm crawling on it, but it was fun to imagine that the worm was measuring for one. Maybe that old wives' tale was created to teach children to be kind to harmless creatures. All I know is that I've never killed one--at least not on purpose--but have always taken great care when removing them from my clothing. Today, while watching the roofer measure and diagram our roof, it suddenly struck me how much like an inchworm he looked, walking so carefully along that steep peak, above the chimney, almost even with the tree tops. Like the inchworm, will he soon give us a new one?