March Madness Makes Me Miserable

I really don't know why I do it. It's not just March.  It's being a sports fan all year long.  Admittedly, I'm much less of a fan now than I was for the bulk of my life, but nearly every bit of fandom ends in misery, and we perpetuate it endlessly.  It's not March Madness that makes me miserable, no, that's quite thrilling.  It's picking a bracket that does it.  It's caring about the outcome of games that I wouldn't normally give two #$%ts about.  That's what does me in.

I woke up this morning to watch the perfect bracket I had when I went to bed fade to one with three losses.  Damn you Harvard, and why didn't you show up UNLV, and Missouri, what happened?  On a typical afternoon I could care less about all three, and this morning, devastation. Well, mildly disappointed, but still, I should feel nuthin' but tired and kinda sorts excited that it's Friday.  Instead, I'm overwhelmed by a medium to medium-well bummer.  Damn you March.

Zoey doesn't care.  Maggie doesn't care.  Daddy and Mummy are the freaks in the house, pouring over brackets and checking Twitter and generally acting like a couple of idiots.  Every March my theory holds true.  Stick around long enough, and open yourself up wide enough, and the universe will make you feel like an idiot eventually.  For sports fans it's a much more regular thing than "eventually."

Why can't I just read Harry Potter books and, I dunno, build things out of wood or somethin'?

Bracketology you make me miserable.  I wonder what time the games start today?