I'm not so

So, with my 431 st post, I am still working on this dissertation apparently. Seriously, I would have that and more, or a book, a long drawn out and somewhat uneven compendium.
Two nights ago, Griffin as is his want, continued on with his Teutonic sagas. Unfortunately there is no English translation for us so all it becomes is that the fucking dog is barking again.
After what seemed an unusually long time, as he most often quits after about 20 minutes, I went downstairs to see our back door, which is right near his quarters, wide open and the world enveloped in a strange glow. I guess he was pulling a good deed for once as in letting us know something was amiss. I let him outside and followed. It was brighter than it had been all day. The moon was glowing behind the clouds and it was 50 degrees with a Santa Ana like wind. I should have enjoyed the moment and I did briefly, until I noticed that all of our outdoor furniture was still on the deck; even the Adirondack chair that Jack, Gus and I carried out of the store in a huge thunderstorm, put together and presented to Eamon for Father's day two years ago. This is after a weekend of shall I say not much activity at my house.
So instead of relishing the magical moment, I took the opportunity to go upstairs and start yelling at my sleeping mate, as if after 21 years, he would actually hear what I had to say.