(And no, I'm not talking about the one you can catch from a not-so-clean boy).
I'm talking about the slow, burning itch that means you need to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. You need to dance like no one is watching. You need to paint your nails while watching Nip/Tuck. You need to drink copious amounts of stoli-vanilla and diet coke and spend the good part of Saturday morning/afternoon looking for your car... like you used to.