It’s 2:00 p.m. on a Sunday, and I have nothing to do.  It’s sunny outside, tomorrow’s a holiday — I really should get out of my apartment and… do… things?  Funny, I don’t remember being this bored on Sundays.

Oh.  Right.

This is what the NFL offseason feels like.  Thirty weeks of depressing malaise.  The dishes.  Laundry.  The gym.  Everything that gets blissfully ignored during the season now gets done on Sundays.

Fuck me.  Fuck all of us.