Want to know what ticks me off? If you ask Mrs. Word Guy, she’ll tell you that a lot of things do, but, if you’ve read even a few of these columns, you already know that what really ticks me off is when people who should know better use the wrong word.

No, I don’t expect everyone to be a word wonk all the time — I’m sure that I make several grammatical errors during the course of a normal day — but there are times when using the right word matters, sometimes a lot. So join me, won’t you, as I pick a few of my biggest peeves out of the very long list I’ve been compiling over the past few years (you really didn’t think that I wouldn’t have a list, did you?). Here goes.

First up is “childlike” (having the unspoiled innocence of a child), which is what one of his rivals called an outspoken governor a few years back. Judging from the context of his statement, it’s pretty clear that the legislator meant to call the governor “childish” (lacking good sense or maturity).

Five years ago, a California computer engineer named Brian Henderson finished the four years it took him to change the 16,000 incorrect uses of “comprised of” in Wikipedia to “composed of.” To compose is to make something by combining together, as in “The army is composed of (not “comprised of”) thousands of troops.” Comprise means “to include or contain,” as in, “The army comprises thousands of troops.”

Then there’s my peeve about the television reporter breathlessly telling us that the SWAT team created a distraction (something that amuses or interferes with a person’s concentration) so they could storm the building and arrest the suspect holed up inside. What the officers actually created was a diversion (a feint or mock attack that takes a person’s attention away from something else).

Have you noticed that in the wake of a major natural disaster, many members of the media tell us about the enormity (extreme evil or moral offensiveness) of the destruction it has caused. Problem is they should be telling us about the enormousness (the quality of being huge in size or scope) of the destruction.

A while back, a pair of articles about two well-known buildings appeared in this newspaper. One was about a “historical church,” and the other concerned itself with Rumford’s “historic Hotel Harris.” So which adjective was used correctly? The winner is (drum roll): historic Hotel Harris.” If something is famous then it has to be historic. “Historical,” on the other hand, means “having to do with history.”

When two newspaper columnists penned pieces critical of the current administration, one noted its “disinterest and disrespect of science,” while the other, written by Fareed Zakaria, chided President Trump for knowing only one dance and “seems uninterested in learning any other.” Who’s right when it comes to describing a lack of interest? If you’re a betting person, put your money on Zakaria; even though the alliteration of “disinterest and disrespect” sounds good, someone who’s disinterested is objective, making “uninterested” (not interested) the right choice.

These are just a few examples from my long list of pet peeves, so you can expect to see more of this kind of column . . . if you’re interested.