The Plural Of Accommodation

Hey, there is no ‘s’ in the plural of accommodation, I pointed out to my friend who calls himself Ahpek. He’s a great blogger, very detailed and informative. I do not have his eyes for detail nor memory to recall interesting events. It is from reading his blogs that prodded me to blog.

Ugly people. Annoying are those who give unsolicited corrections to our grammar and spelling mistakes. It is scientifically proven that those who have the compulsion to be grammar police are unpopular and even despised. Urghhlings, yet why did I do it? Why did I not curb the urge to tell him the plural of accommodation is accommodation. No s! Another friend was quick to say I made an ass of myself. How tactful.

Another friend chirped in. As long as the message comes across….don’t worry, be happy and healthy. As if being correct with the use of a language somehow diminishes our happiness and affects our health adversely. Yet another reinforced that idea. Who cares, at our age? Whatever can do….. be merry, be happy. Ok, happiness is obviously the goal here.

Let’s be happy, don’t worry about grammar, who cares if we spell wrongly? Close enough is good enough. But, we need to have our message come across fully and correctly! Words are a source of misunderstandings. Misunderstandings are a source of conflict. True, it is annoying to be corrected, especially when it is over some trivial word.

I can appreciate at our advancing age, we may be more inclined to relax our rules and standards, but should we “let go” and annul all we have learned and strived for throughout our careers? Here, it is merely the vocabulary or grammar, but will it lead to a slippery slide and we become that someone who embraces “close enough is good enough” in everything else?

I have often called myself the local idiotes (old Greek word for a private person). It wouldn’t surprise me if my friends think I meant I’m the local idiot. They wouldn’t be necessarily wrong. Calling myself that gives me the passport to be as honest with myself as I can be. It is liberating. But, I refuse to be one who accepts close enough is good enough. The day that happens is the day I’m too close to my coffin.

My dad is the best cook ever!

My goat is in a pen

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