HUSTLING (A LITTLE)

The thing is, maybe I don't want to go back to work right away. I'll have my son around all day, and my daughter before and after she goes to school. And the last couple of days when they gave me their sloppy wet toddler-smooches before heading out for the day...well, damn, that was good. It gave me far more joy than whatever I might have accomplished at work, especially of late.

My wife and I ran the numbers and again wondered whether rushing back into work would be worth it even if a job did pop into my lap. It would have to be one small-h hell of a job. For whatever pissing and moaning I might do about the radio business, there are benefits to getting up at an insanely early hour - namely, that I'd get out of work at an insanely early hour, and futzing around on the internet counted as show prep because inevitably I'd find something that nobody else had hustled enough to see.

But put my children's morning smooches on the other end of the scale and there's no contest. We'll learn more on Monday when I put her on the bus from home for the first time.

DEAR (APPLICANT), HOW MUCH MORE LAME COULD YOU BE?

The blog's new - the issue, not so much other than on a personal level.

The background: Two days ago I was laid off from my position as news director for the Hudson Valley's local affiliates of Cumulus Media. Nothing personal, just business. It was decided in a boardroom far away from here that a presidential election is not a sufficiently major news event, just as Ian Faith decreed long ago that Boston is not a big college town.

And now it's the search for a new gig, while at the same time taking care of a three-year-old son and a five-year-old daughter and all the other household duties that fall to a guy whose wife is the sole breadwinner of the moment.

Oh, you were hoping for more howling for suits' heads on pikes? My humblest apologies. It just isn't my style. And besides, today's radio business - like a great many businesses - is long gone from the days where you could simply go all Johnny Paycheck on a boss, delight in the righteous catharsis, get knee-walking stinkola, and expect to stroll into a new gig across the street the next week. Additionally, I live in a small town. Everybody not only knows everybody, they knew my parents from when they taught school back in the day, they know how badly I dressed in high school, so bridge-burning is not an option for any sane person.

Besides, it could've been worse. They could have rightsized surplussed repurposed canned me after I stayed up until 2 in the morning on Election Night reporting on which state was going to bollix the election this time.

The blogroll ought to be fun once I get it set up. Me and a bunch of other jobless strivers, making like sad-sacks straight out of a Tom Waits song.

Welcome.