I know you have one stashed somewhere in your house. Why don’t you ever use it?
I’ll tell you; it’s because it’s crammed at the bottom of your bookshelf between things that will fall over when you pull out your (not so) handy word reference manual. This will annoy you. You might not be able to get it back in the small space from which it came. You opt for your laptop and proceed merrily with word sleuthing, thinking yourself right clever for avoiding a grave brush with actual paper.
Well, dears, by all means, sleuth away in your digital bliss, but consider this:
As I leafed through Merriam-Webster today in hot pursuit of the definition of my Tigress Can Jam’s monthly ingredient—the alliums family—I stumbled upon a sweet tidbit, something I’d have never seen in an online definition.
Three or four listings above my mysterious alliums, there it was:
alligator pear n: avocado
Who knew avocados were also called alligator pears? Not me, not until I picked up this dinosaur of a book that kids don’t really know how to use anymore (shocking!) [Also shocking: I’ve apparently become that old person shaking my cane and 14-year old grocery bag at the sky saying, “Kids these days…”]
Perhaps there’s a better location for this wondrous book in your home: like somewhere you can use it once and a while and not simultaneously implode your desk/bookcase situation?
Where do you dictionary-flipping regulars keep yours so it actually stays handy?