|Feeling a bit mulish|
Suffixes have their place in the world.
Inevitably that place is at the back of another word.
Suffixes have no false humility in regard to the tacked-on nature of their being.
They experience no loss of self-esteem because they need another word on which to lean.
No, suffixes are complacent in the knowledge that they can grant a king a kingdom, endue a diplomat with diplomacy and take a court and make it courteous.
A humble block becomes a mighty blockade, sense can develop sensitivity and awe discovers the thrill of awesomeness.
|Men acting outish|
This brings us to The Prude’s favorite suffix, the suffix that atones for her forgetfulness,
and her indecisiveness, and her mealy-mouthedness.
Oh, -ish! It is the suffix that allows The Prude latitude to be latish, but not really and truly and rudely late.
It graciously makes her chicken toughish without bearing the shame of being overdone, or just plain burnt.
It means she doesn’t speed when she is latish, she simply drives fastish.
-ish creates a whole new world of not-quite-hitting-the-nail-on-the-head.
Her husband isn’t a workaholic, he’s just busyish.
Her son’s new longboarding shoes aren’t tacky, the colors are just brightish.
The people down the road aren’t isolationists, they are just quietish.
If she realizes her garden is dryish instead of parched, she can finish her game of Scrabble or the chapter of her book before heading out with the hose.
The lawn isn’t overgrown yet, it is merely getting longish.
The closets aren’t stuffed to the point of overflowing. We call them fullish and then we can cram a few more items in before we slam the door shut.
Three simple letters preceded by a self-effacing dash.
But that has made all the differenceish.