Thomas M. Reid

So, since my last post, a very interesting turn of events occurred in my life that caused me to reevaluate my feelings a little bit about how adamant I ought to be regarding “the rules.”

I had to spend the night in the hospital.

Let me say up front that it turned out to be nothing major, and I am fine. But severe chest pains led me to call 911, which resulted in a visit to the ER, which ended with an overnight stay for observation. It turned out to be what I had initially thought — that is, acute acid reflux — but you just don’t fool around with chest pains. The great big silver lining to all of it was that I now know, without a doubt, that my heart is healthy, my cholesterol and sodium levels are generally good, and that hospital RNs are some of the greatest, most under-appreciated people in the world, but I get much better sleep in my own damned bed.

Now, some of my GI condition is genetic; my grandfather dealt with acid reflux and had to incline his bed, and I’m guessing I inherited his lousy esophageal sphincter. Some of it is careless diet, with a little bit too much to eat, with a little too much spice to it, and a little too much soda to boot. I’ve learned to fix those problems with satisfying success; I’ve got my bed inclined, too, and I’ve learned to consume smaller, less spicy portions, not so late at night, and to drink fewer Cokes (at least, I was doing well until the holidays). The other contributor to acid reflux and GERD is, of course, stress. And that’s where we get into uncharted waters. 2009 was a crappy year for a lot of us financially, and I certainly felt my share of frustrations. As a result, the holidays — and their accompanying material trappings — were slimmer and more stressful than usual. To be honest, I’m not that surprised that this hit me.

So, with plenty of time to think while under observation, I concluded pretty quickly that I needed an attitude adjustment, and one of the things at the top of my list was pretty simple; I realized I just couldn’t afford to care as much about whether a decade ends on ’9′ or ’0′ anymore. (Turns out, most people see it differently depending on whether you’re talking about “the 1980s” or “the 21st century” anyway. Go figure.) It was actually kind of nice, understanding this. A serene calm settled on me, and I vowed right then and there that I would get over it. Yep, you call it whichever way you want it; new decade, end of old one, it’s all good in my book.

In the spirit of my new, less-anal self, I present to you an article on five grammar myths that could stand to be debunked. Each one is backed by evidence that dates back quite a ways in usage, several centuries in some cases. All of them are worth contemplating. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to split some infinitives and end some sentences with prepositions.