December 15, 2015

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No, “€œbitchy resting face”€ has an almost artisanal patina. I approve, and wish I”€™d thought of it first.

This week, with admirable timing, Word Spy delivered “€œFOGO“€ to my inbox:

From the phrase “€œfear of going out”€… The dread of going out, particularly if one is tired from previous socializing; the desire to not attend a popular event that is over-hyped or over-commercialized.

I thought there was already a word for that”€””€œagoraphobia”€”€”but whatever it’s called, I have that, too, especially at this time of year. Mostly unwelcome invitations proliferate just when darkness starts crashing down earlier and earlier, turning every day into Sunday“€”a natural annual occurrence I still haven”€™t reached an agreeable settlement with.

No matter the season, the sky has always seemed a little too…high to this introvert; leaving the house after hours or days of semi-silent, solitary occupation inevitably discombobulates me. Factor in the blackness and chill and I turn into Grandpa Simpson.

And those goddamn hobos don”€™t help. We really need a better word for those bastards.

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