Tiptoe through the typos

I didn't grow up dreaming of being a proofreader, but I do a lot of it for a living and it pays the bills, allows me to get my hair done every five weeks and go on regular online shopping binges.

Like I wrote before, it's hard on the eyes and on the nerves. For every million things you get right, the one you get wrong always comes back to bite you.

So yesterday when my big debut included a typo on the front page of the Lifestyles section (...married to a English scientist) and on the interactive page (Leigh Ann Frink describes why he wants to be a writer), I was honestly glad that they happened to me and not the other columnists. Because, you see, I know firsthand the misery of having 10 different people whose errors I correct every day gleefully pointing out mine. So my heart goes out to the editor who missed those.

On the flipside, I wrote a letter to the editor of my hometown paper smacking down a jerk not for his views (that's not challenging to me), but for his grammar. The editorial assistant at the paper took it upon him- or herself to change my correct pronoun "his" to "their" in my carefully crafted landing sentence. (UPDATE: I asked them to correct it on the online version, but a couple thousand print versions are out there.) I'm sitting here waiting for the flame war. Bring it! Mama's got nothing but time on her hands until June 2. That's when I go back to my contract position at a Fortune 250 that edits its dry corporate communications with more care...

(UPDATE 2: My mama wrote them a letter and they printed a retraction. Don't mess with my mama.)
Of course, the first sentence there is all over the place and ignores the basic "subject verb object" rule. But, instead of picking more fights with them, I'm going to go and flog myself for devolving to the point where I notice and am irritated by these things.

God, please let Steve get a good job so I don't have to do this anymore.