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Not-so brilliant long-range planning

When I was in high school, not all that far from the border with Quebec, I had to choose a foreign language elective.

I selected French. Made sense, right? We lived way closer to Montreal than to Boston, after all.

So naturally, not all that many years later, I found myself living and working in places such as El Paso and Tucson. Not a lot of call for French there.

But knowing a little Spanish might have been nice.

How about you? Ever wish you had a do-over on a seemingly casual decision along those lines? 

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The Slice

The online home for Paul Turner's musings and interactions with disciples of The Slice.