I love football. I grew up on it. I have watched the NFL since 1970, from Howard Cosell and Dandy Don, John Madden and Thanksgiving, through the life of ESPN's Chris Bierman. I remember when Monday Night was added, the uproar in households at the thought of taking another evening from wifes and children.

When the league decided to additional Thursday games it hurt my significant others. Now, with six Thursday games Weeks 10-15, there is turmoil. Throw in a Saturday game Week 15, and a Friday game Week 16, and we have the makings of a revolt. Tuesday and Wednesday are the only sacred days left in the football fan's family dwelling. As David Gray would croon, "How'd it ever come this far?"

And it is not as if these games are Colts-Patriots matchups, fun for the whole family. No, games included in the week takeover are: Miami at Carolina; Thanksgiving classics like Oakland at Dallas, or Green Bay at Detroit; New York Jets at Buffalo; San Diego at Tennessee. Not exactly material for prime time.

My wife complains. She is hating on the NFL. She will put her "Husband for Sale" shirt on during game days, refuses to make snacks like she did in the 90s. When I argue that my football viewing combined is equal to her ghost shows, Mad Men, and Dancing with the Stars, she cannot see the light. The ten hours on Sunday, the three on Monday, and the additional three on Thursday, add up to far too many, no matter how often those guys do not find the ghosts. Or smoke in the delivery rooms.

Obviously, there are exceptions to this rule. She will watch the Vikings vs. Packers. She will even whip up a salsa or chili. But there are no tacos for Dolphins vs. Panthers. No appetizers for Chargers vs. Titans. I am on my own. And if the league ever invades Wednesdays, I may actually be for sale.