All I wanted to get was some zucchini. Just some lousy zucchini. But as soon as I entered the farmers' market, I was assaulted by a spelling error.
The vendor, the first vendor I see, proudly announced that they had "CHEDAR CHEESE" in stock. A spelling error is one thing. A spelling error in all caps is another. I politely refused when offered a free sample of said cheese. There is no way on earth that I'm eating cheese from a company that can't spell their product correctly. Details. It's about the details. (If spelling isn't your thing, the word "cheddar" has two d's, not one.)
I tried to shake it from my mind and continued on my way.
But I was assaulted again. AGAIN.
You see, I was waiting in line to pay for my zucchini when I spied several bins of potatoes. On each bin was a sign marking the variety: red potato, yukon gold potato, and white potato.
Except they spelled "potato" the Dan Quayle way...with an "e" at the end: potatoe.
The Spelling Vigilante emerged from within. I tried to keep her silent. I tried to tell her to keep her eyes focused on the zucchini, but she couldn't do it.
The Spelling Vigilante examined the sign, trying to appear nonchalant. It was written with a dry erase pen on a piece of plastic.
Good. Verrrrry good.
She stepped out of line, sauntered up to the potato display, and pretended to examine the delightful potato varieties.
The Spelling Vigilante looked to her right.
Then she quickly looked to her left.
The Spelling Vigilante reached over with her finger and quickly wiped the "e" off all three signs.
She surveyed her work, smiled to herself, and rejoined the line.
The vendor, the first vendor I see, proudly announced that they had "CHEDAR CHEESE" in stock. A spelling error is one thing. A spelling error in all caps is another. I politely refused when offered a free sample of said cheese. There is no way on earth that I'm eating cheese from a company that can't spell their product correctly. Details. It's about the details. (If spelling isn't your thing, the word "cheddar" has two d's, not one.)
I tried to shake it from my mind and continued on my way.
But I was assaulted again. AGAIN.
You see, I was waiting in line to pay for my zucchini when I spied several bins of potatoes. On each bin was a sign marking the variety: red potato, yukon gold potato, and white potato.
Except they spelled "potato" the Dan Quayle way...with an "e" at the end: potatoe.
The Spelling Vigilante emerged from within. I tried to keep her silent. I tried to tell her to keep her eyes focused on the zucchini, but she couldn't do it.
The Spelling Vigilante examined the sign, trying to appear nonchalant. It was written with a dry erase pen on a piece of plastic.
Good. Verrrrry good.
She stepped out of line, sauntered up to the potato display, and pretended to examine the delightful potato varieties.
The Spelling Vigilante looked to her right.
Then she quickly looked to her left.
The Spelling Vigilante reached over with her finger and quickly wiped the "e" off all three signs.
She surveyed her work, smiled to herself, and rejoined the line.
