It's unacceptable that it's only Tuesday. My exhaustion levels indicate a reading that it ought to be at least Thursday.

"The Day After Tomorrow" is on TV tomorrow in a surprising twist.

New additions to the Sam Memorial Library.

#DuringTheWitchHunt I asked Samantha Stevens to marry me.

The way I've been feeling, and the malaise that seems to have overtaken everything, I feel like I could sleep for a few days straight.

I missed "A Few Good Men" on TV, but I'm in time for "Road House," so this wasn't a total tragedy.

Don't be surprised if I just disappear into the ether from social media because my good Lord is this stuff filled with endless vitriol, brain-rotting nonsense, and misery.

To the people who get irritable because the groundhog predicts a longer winter: If lunatics woke you up out of a deep sleep in the frigid winter and shoved a camera into your bed-headed face, what would you tell them?

This timeline needs considerable amounts of bleach.

Despite all my rage, tomorrow is still Monday and I have to workcage.

There will be baseball every month for quite some time, and that's cool.

I think we need another Miracle on Ice moment to try to turn things around.

A line that struck fear into the heart of anyone in a horror movie back in the day: "The call is coming from inside the house." A line that strikes fear into the hearts of everyone today in reality: "You have a phone call."

I bought a second coffee (iced, even though it's 22 degrees outside), so this is feeling like a "Let's see if I can finish this novel in one sitting" Saturdee.

I always chuckle when I hear the time followed by "o'clock" (I know the origin of it). It's like saying "It's 63 degrees o'thermometer" or "Stir the mixture and preheat the oven to 350 degrees o'recipe."

Dunkin' coffee is in hand, so everything else can wait.

Let's play another game of Will the Food Sam Ate Keep Him Up Tonight.

Noooo...ugh.

Maybe this is my astigmatism talking, but are car headlights getting more obnoxiously bright or is it just me? I swear, sometimes I feel like I'm driving into an alien mothership like Randy Quaid in "Independence Day" out there.

I didn't put my glasses on while my contacts were still in my eyes, so when my vision was blurry, I thought I was going blind and lamenting that this is how it all ends for me. You did.

Come on, spring.

Pretty sure I just lost two fingers, an ear, and one or three toes to frostbite, but I got my Dunkin' coffee, so not a total loss.

When I was outside, I took a long glance at the pavement and dirt because after the next few days, we won't be seeing them for about a month.

I was going to go to bed early, but that movie I've seen a hundred times is on TV in a few minutes, so there goes that.

Colonoscopy went swimmingly. Now, I eat everything in sight.

Darnold, Stafford, Maye, and Stidham. Just like you drew it up at the beginning of the season.

And here we....go. Strange. I took the four Dulcolax tablets and my sinuses seemed to clear up a little, immediately. I didn't know this stuff traveled north, too. (It's a joke. I know it doesn't work like that. Just let me have humor today.)

The positive thing about enduring colonoscopy prep today is that I'll have hours of bathroom time to learn a new language or how to play an instrument.

The Dunkin' I went to this morning still had Christmas cups. Perfectly matches day two (thought it was supposed to be only one) of the Winter Wonderland here in southwestern New England.

Wow. That Bills/Broncos game was a stunner.

"We Were Folgers." #HotBeveragesInASongOrMovie

The future Mrs. Sam. #FoundInDraculasCastle

With this head cold that I woke up with, and the cornucopia of sneezes it brought with it, the first "God bless you" is appreciated, but I can't handle anymore because having to express "Thank you" amidst two or three more sneezes requires energy I don't have.

I'm going to bed at a time that begins with a 9. It matches up, perfectly, with my birth century back in the 1900s.

I love reading physical books of any binding/format, but there's just something about a hardcover. The sound of it creaking open. The weight of it in your hands. The rustling of the dust jacket. I feel like a wizard.

"National Treasure" is nearly an hour into its airing on TV, and nobody bothered to tell me that it was on, so I've missed nearly an hour of a movie I've seen 75 times.

Verizon is experiencing an outage. Good. Let's hit reset on society.

Already dreaming of my first meal Monday afternoon following my colonoscopy, after the dietary restrictions this week and the hell I'll endure Sunday.

One of my nerdiest pet peeves is watching a period piece and for some inexplicable reason, it's been modernized. For the most part, people didn't look like they walked out of central casting/off a runway and they definitely didn't speak that way.

After getting home at 3:30am last weekend, I got home at 4:15am this morning. I don't know who I am anymore. ...also, I don't know if you guys know this, but bars late on the weekend are filled with people who look 14, now.

Crawled into bed and forgot to turn on the fan. I was lying there wondering why it sounded like a mortuary in here.

Looking for the pair of underwear that you can't find in the drawer because you're currently wearing them is a new low. Maybe I should take a less snarky look at those AARP fliers I keep getting in the mail.

Twenty years ago, a cousin recommended I join something called Facebook. Little did I know the hellscape all of these apps would become.

Most conversations typically consist of "What are you watching?" instead of "What are you reading?" That pretty much sums up the state of things.

Finally. The tyrannosaurus and velociraptor I ordered have arrived.

My name is Sam, and I can't stop buying books.

Fine. I won't call AI "slop" anymore. I'll call it "brain-rotting, false-information-disseminating, creativity-stealing, arts-killing, bathtub-scum, irritating, annoying, lazy hot trash."

These insufferable TLC network commercials during every ad break need to be stopped.

The way I'm holding this comic book right now as I read it, you'd think I were handling the Declaration of Independence. It's not even a rare, valuable book. This is just me not wanting to defile it.

I can't wait for my work e-mails to melt my face tomorrow morning.