A couple of weeks ago, on Craigslist, there was an ad for a Czech translator/proofreader in NYC. I say Czech, but it was probably Spanish. I could have picked any language that I can't speak except to order beer, and there's a few of those. Languages, not beer, you cheeky monkeys.
I drafted a response anyway, thinking that if they needed a Turkmen one then, they might need a French one soon, and that when they needed the French one, I'd be one step ahead.
Am I smart, or am I smart?
Go for "or". It's your safest bet. To wit.
A couple of days ago, in a fit of draft cleaning because my gmail was getting out of control (and honestly, "2.6 MB and counting"? 1. they're counting slow, 2. just not good enough), I deleted all the drafts that I was never going to finish, send or... finish or send. There really are only two options for draft emails, aren't there? I mean, an actual letter I could also feed to the sharks, make a plane out of, tear to shreds in a manic fit, etc. but for an email?
Anyway. So I "moved to trash", with gusto, for a while, and my draft box is now blissfully empty. And feeling good. (I know what you're thinking. Of course I empty the trash every once in a while.)
Ah, the satisfaction fate must be feeling when it knows it's coming back to bite someone right where it hurts. Or stings at the very least.
This morning, Bloglines was telling me that people had gone berserk with updates during the night. Nosily eager to hear what half the world had been up to, I went to check, saw 7 new items in "jobsearch" (I am nothing if not a creative labeller), opened that, and bam. French Proofreader, NYC. I have now been trying for 45 minutes to rewrite that letter, and nothing - application letters are now coming out my nose, ears, and eyes I'm so fed up with them.
All I want to do is attach my résumé and say "pick me! pick me!". Literally. Reckon they'd go for that?