There is something in journalism called the can.

No, not the toilet.

It’s the place, in my experience most likely some sort of file or desktop folder, where writers keep stories they’ve decided to save for a slow news day.

I toiled seven years in print journalism, and there were a lot of days I just didn’t want to write or wondered whether there would be enough words to write to fill the paper.

One of the things I learned early in my journalism career was if I would like to receive a paycheck, the paper must be filled.

My bosses never liked my suggestion we fill it with crossword puzzles so the can saved my butt more than once.

I feel like now is a good time to tell you I have no idea where I’m going with this, and the time it takes you to read these words will be time you’ll never get back.

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