Summer sag.

I think it's safe to say that we've reached the point in August when summer has overstayed its welcome. The Great Lileks once blogged that all seasons do. You hit a point when the thing that the season is best known for becomes a drag. The hairy canines are certainly tired of it.

But to be fair, this has been nowhere near a really hot summer, just a really soggy one. Local reports in the northeast about the rainfall have been leading with the unlucky car dealer in Little Falls, New Jersey, whose inventory went for a short and unhappy sail. And we can't blame this one on Hurricane Shlomo or whatever; this is just been flat-out rain.

Everyone is out of sorts. If you had a vacation, it is over; if you didn't, like me, you want to kill everyone who did. I know retired guys -- pretty much all of them on government pensions, or phone company pensions, which is the same thing -- who went on vacation to "get away from it all." Get away from WHAT? You're RETIRED. But I just smile, nod, and plot revenge.

Nah, that would take effort, and it's too humid for effort.

I do appreciate that being away can be relaxing, even if you're going to someplace very similar to home. I know moms who have gone to "get away from it all" to a rental house where they still have to cook for their ungrateful families. And it's not like a parent is every really on vacation, not unless you've managed to dump the kids on Grandma. But when you're someplace for which you are not responsible, you can breathe a little easier. The roof needs shingles. Lick o' paint would help the bathroom. These windows are looking old. Well, that's the owner's problem, not mine. So you can relax.

Unless, like me, when you do travel, you expect to come back to find that the house that you do own has burned to the foundation.

I think the ideal vacation for me would be to be sedated for a week. Knock me out Sunday, wake me up the following Saturday. Just five solid days of sleep. Right now that sounds like the greatest resort in the world.