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Itchy

Two and half months have gone by since leaving Evanston.

More than two and a half months have transpired since I’ve submitted any posts to Blissfully Domestic.

Two and half months have passed since I’ve given any real thought to dipping into the writing pool again.

That is, until tonight, when I voiced to a friend of mine that I desire a weekly deadline. A paid weekly deadline. Nothing journalistic. I wouldn’t know where to begin. More like a column. An “I’m Just Sayin’ . . .” sort of gig.

Something entertaining.

Something that lightens the mood of our nation. Something that affords those with nothing to laugh about, something to laugh about.

I give them full permission to laugh at me.

I’m feeling a bit itchy. However, I have no plan for how to alleviate this itch. No quick ointment to aid in my recovery. Maybe God wants me to feel this itch to the point of extreme irritation so that I won’t easily give up the fight of finding a writing gig.

I have a few contacts.

Time to start scratching.

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