As I strolled into work this morning, I was hailed by colleague Robert. “Have you read the Letters to the Listener this week?” he asked. “Someone complained about your column.” “Was it my wife?” I asked. Robert thought I was making a joke, but I really wasn’t.
I had already told my wife I would publish a correction to my recent column about misokinesia (a pathological jiggling that was the problem. “It makes me feel nauseous,” she corrected sternly. Consider me chastened.