This morning, I took the Canadian "Skilled Worker Self-Assessment" quiz to see if I have enough points to emigrate to Canada. If only I were slightly more proficient in French (or I had a job offer or relatives in Canada): My score was 69 and I need 75 to qualify. Hello, Vancouver? Do you need a copywriter?
Of course, I don't really want to move to Canada. I really want to move to Britain. And I only missed the paternal grandfather clause by one generation. Why couldn't my great-grandmother have popped out Grandpa Jones in Welshpool, huh? And how is it that all those lobster-faced Britons are able to lounge around sans sunscreen in Santa Monica indefinitely, but I can't get a work visa for more than six months?
Moot point, really, since our two cats would have to languish in quarantine for six months. Mainland Europe doesn't seem to care if your pets have rabies, though. Maybe Denmark needs someone to write about underpants...
You can find more of the interesting word usements I structure on Apple.com.
Read my article, Better Writing Through Design, on No. 242 of A List Apart.