Identity

It's a very strange thing when you realise that someone's conception of you differs from your own. In the past three days, three different people have made some comment that reveals they hold a fairly significant misconception about me. I mean , it's not important, but I want to set the record straight.

So:
• When I refer to my teenage years, I mean the nineties, not the eighties.
  
• When I refer to my friend visiting, I mean a platonic friend, not a boyfriend.
  
• When I refer to my family home, I mean Devon and not Ireland.

Greeting card integration

Once again Valentine's day has found me listening to the Lord of the Rings audiobook and sipping a soy latté.

I don't think I'm alone in being wildly indifferent (even antipathetic) to V-day but it is, in certain circles, a huge deal. Perhaps I'm too rational, perhaps too sincere to get involved.

I had a post planned in which I talked about the disconnect between the relative insignificance of V-day compared to dates that actually mean something to me like, say, the last weekend in May or the first Monday in October. I compared it to integration over the whole population, thereby giving the truth to the links I already made. Now, though, I am so tired. So very tired.

Impersonal Singular Possessive

I have been reconciled to "its".

Me Before:
A noun possesive is noun-apostrophe-s! Rarrggh! Hulk smash inconsistent rules of grammar and punctuation!

Me After:
Oh, right: hi's, her's, it's.