The Sunday Salon: Madame Grammarian

When I was a wee lass, I wrote extremely pretentious poetry on Microsoft Word. (This is before we got Macs, which is essentially B.C. in my household.) It was even typed in Papyrus, the most pretentious of all fonts, which should only be used to write the word Serenity and nothing else. One day, I showed my mother a poem. She approved of it, as mothers do, but pointed out that I used the possessive of “it” (its) where I had meant to use the contraction of “it is” (it’s). I shrugged it off, but my mother pressed on. “Clare, that means you’re illiterate.”

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