Good news - we are only five days away from the ultimate Blue Monday (January 18), the day when post-Christmas financial pressure hangs like a stone from your shoulders, the weather is nothing short of manky and your January fitness regime is lying in tatters.
Once we get over that hump, sure anything is possible. If we can winter this… No! Stop. Too much.
In the midst of such a fog of depression, a great diversion is taking place. Unbeknownst to the average punter, the horse trading, comparing of notes and scouring of match reports and videos is taking place.
The All-Stars selectors are making deliberations. Heroes will be made and outrage will erupt. There could be a 'soft' All-Star, a 'career' All-Star, or a blatant omission. If you hunt out the right partisan element, almost every decision could be seen as a downright, thundering disgrace.
In normal times, the All-Stars system is announced pre-Christmas. There'll be a bit of a bash with too many people in monkey suits and ballgowns gathering for microwaved beef and a bit of a disco before the crowd seeps out into the Dublin night.
Plenty of chatter will occur but there are provincial club competitions also competing for headlines, airtime and tweets. In short, it passes.
It won't be flying under the radar this time, as all eyes are trained on it. Whatever technological chat facility the discussions around picking the team will be housed in, it will be subject to hacking from Russians, Americans and a couple of head-the-balls from Lacken mad to see what kind of showing the Galligan cousins get.
Such pressure carries huge responsibility. Sometimes it can play tricks with the mind. Who dares to speak of 1994, the year Offaly hurler Brian Whelahan won the Hurler of the Year award but not an All-Star after some confusion over a secret ballot and some needless meddling in the process by those who shouldn't have had a say?
Or 1997, when Bernard Morris won the Ulster Player of the Year award from the Ulster GAA Writers but didn't secure an All-Star?
As jaw-dropping as they were, barely a year passes without some controversy. The occasional omission of Stephen Cluxton can cause widespread anguish among some.
It will be no different this year.
There is a chance that Cluxton, who perhaps became the first goalkeeper to keep clean sheets throughout an entire successful All-Ireland campaign (I've had to furlough my personal statistician), may miss out on an All-Star.
Two years ago, the attention was on Colm Cavanagh, named as an All-Star at full-back. How could it be, the collective eye-roll of the nation would have it, that Cavanagh is a full-back?
But yes, he spent his entire time in the full-back line, save for the start of each half when he would contest the throw-in.
If there's anything that divides opinion more than an All-Stars selection, then it comes with the All-Stars trip.
This is when the cream of the GAA's footballers and hurlers head off in alternate years to a far-flung part of the world where Gaelic games are thriving.
Naturally, these excursions get up the nose of those who feel they are expensive junkets and the money would be better spent on hurling helmets in Cavan or footballs in Kilkenny.
When confronted with those who carry such umbrage, my policy is not to inform them that the trips are paid for by the sponsor of the schemes, but to boast instead of the five-star luxury and just how juicy the steaks are in Dubai/Boston/Argentina.
I find that really endears me.
A couple of years ago, the exhibition match on tour was scrapped. This is in one way a great pity as the exiles from the host club relished seeing the very best players close up. But in the age of sports science, of players rehabbing bodies over the winter, the games had become farcical.
The days of, say, the Tyrone-Dublin challenge match in Toronto Skydome in 1989, when they spent the evening taking chunks out of each other, are long gone.
In a way, it is a blessing for themselves that the average GAA All-Star selector leads a very sheltered life.
Usually hermit-types, they rise around midday. Their daily exercise is performed when they stand with their back to the top of the stairs, propelling themselves backward with a smoker's cough.
After breakfast, they scurry to their laptops on kitchen tables or spare bedrooms to spend the day on the phone, tweeting and occasionally weighing in with a story before they look at their watches and can't quite believe that it is 3pm already and time to knock off for the day.
Not so this week, not when an All-Star longlist is to be compiled for the most condensed season ever.
Videos have been watched, scorelines and player ratings have been Googled, and optics will be considered.
It will be long, hard and arduous. It is a difficult gig.
But please, do not pity us. The steaks are very juicy in Dubai/Boston/Argentina.
The passing of Dunloy Cuchullains chairman James McLean on Monday showed that social media has its uses in some sense.
When people pass on to their eternal reward, there is an urge among those who knew the deceased to pay tribute to them online. This makes some people, unaccustomed to social media or suspicious of it, a bit uneasy.
I see it another way. For me, it’s like a star exploding, leaving a supernova in its wake. Tales of great deeds and discreet acts of kindness find their way into the public domain. In these times, when wakes are not what they once were and restrictions have all but put an end to them, this is a most fitting way to recognise the contribution men like McLean make to their local community.
McLean was one of those dependable figures that GAA clubs depend on for their survival and progress. In Dunloy, they are more ambitious than most. Back when the Celtic Tiger roared, they put into place plans that would develop their facilities to almost unrivalled levels across the province.
McLean was part of all that. Even when the bubble of the false economy burst, they just kept on, knowing that within the club they had enough talent and sense to make it through.
Like many in the GAA, his roles shifted as he aged. From the minor hurler that won a Championship in 1971, he had a long and fruitful senior career with the hurlers for club and county.
While he had a spell coaching, his real talents lay in administration and he not only had the difficult job of north Antrim chairman, but also as an Ulster delegate.
Besides all of that, he was one of the understated figures who help keep a complex and rewarding sports organisation on the go day after day, year after year. It takes character and dedication, it takes selflessness and an ability to see the greater good for those outside your front door. It’s a life well spent.
He is survived by his wife Bernie and five children.