Damn Great Silly Goofball Anyway

It's one of those nights. You know, too sleepy to think. This makes me too stupid to go to bed. So I sit on the floor in the upstairs room, laptop atop my lap, typing to you people when I should be tucked away in bed propping my eyes open to read The Man in the High Castle, which is one of the books what I bought the other day. It's pretty good. Why wouldn't it be?

So I'm high-sided because I tried to help both my sons with school and wasn't much use in either case. They're getting to where they need help that's smarter than me. Either that or I'm getting dumber. I'll take the former. Now the house is quiet and too many lights are on -- two or three at least -- and an easy rain falls outside, and--

Ruff rough rowf!

Below me is the garage, and in the garage is an old comforter, and on the old comforter is a dog, and out of the dog comes these thoroughly superfluous exclamations. He has a deep big dog voice and it resonates up through the joists and the flooring and into my bottom. I know he has nothing to bark at. So I go down to tell him.

His eyes blink in the light and his ears are flat and he thumps and has this silly grin and I play dumb and say, "What the hell you barking at, boy?" and he says, "Oh, nothin'," and keeps thumping. "Well, cut it out," I say, and turn off the light and close the door and go back upstairs and continue my pointless browsing and--

Arf woof rr-ooo!

Proof that I'm late-night stupid in that I go into the garage and smack his hard hairy brain-pan (lovingly) and he stops and thumps and smacks his chops and I'm all, "You need to go outside," and he's all, "You know my hind legs don't work," and I'm all, "Bullshit, you're just lazy," and I drag him about two feet and decide if he really has to pee he'll manage to get out the door just fine so I leave him on the concrete and come back upstairs and--

How-oo-- !

But I'm not playing anymore and I think now I really will go to bed. Damn great silly goofball anyway.