In the middle of my sabbatical my agent called. I crossed my fingers, hoping his voice would connect me to some great gig, in an awesome city, with some serious pay and perks.
As it turns out, one out of four isn’t all that bad, right, especially “in this economy” (which happen to be three words I now loathe).
Apparently, the NBC affiliate in Boston needed some maternity relief. I used to work for the Fox affiliate in Boston. The news director at the new station thought I’d be an easy person to just plug in and cover for three months. My agent thought it would be a great way for me to stay current and it would give him a few more months to find me that “dream” gig. For me, my concerns were endless. Where would I stay? What would hubby do? What about my girl, Cricket? What about my friends? How will I maintain my volunteer commitments in Charlotte? Parking? Car? Packing? Clothes? Climate?
You know how this ends because as I’m writing this, I’m at Boston’s Logan Airport getting ready to fly back for two events in Charlotte I need (and am so excited!!) to attend.
As with everything, things ended up falling into place. I’m staying with two old friends (I’m calling them “My Two Dads”) and the only things missing from the Boston equation were a futon and clothes rack, both of which were rectified at IKEA.