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Allow me to vent for a moment. Unless we are in England, “wilst” is not a word I ever want to hear. It is similar to “while,” which should always be pronounced more like “wall.”

I will be there in a wall. It rhymes with drawl.

“Wilst” is just ridiculously pretentious and amounts to putting on airs. Worse yet, it is often improperly used, so those of us who really do have airs to put on, feel twice as insulted. Not only are you arrogant and pompous, you think so little of me, you assume I won’t even notice.

If one was wearing a romantic cloak and wanted to say something like, “Wilst thou goest,” one would be completely forgiven. I am talking about injecting “wilst” into conversations about the weather, as if you are a highly intelligent creature with vastly superior communications skills. This fancy word is often followed up by several clear indications that you have just moved here and have absolutely no awareness of local geography.

At all.

It is one thing for someone to ask, “where is that,” when one is speaking of an obscure back road that has been casually named by locals over the years. It is quite another matter to ask “where is that” when “that” is the staggeringly huge mountain range right outside your front window. Try opening your curtains and exercising a smidgen of intellectual curiosity, karen.

“Wilst” is a clear indication that we have been invaded, colonized by a vast number of newly arrived, complete imbeciles.

Just when I thought my last nerve was already in its death throes, it seems to have reared its ugly head once again. I do not ever want to hear, “OMG” when it comes to the weather. This panicked, desperate plea to “Stay Safe!!!!!” over every single raindrop is just flipping annoying.

In fact, if you are some sort of reporter or emergency management volunteer you should never, ever use all caps and the exclamation point of infinity. POSSIBLE ACCUMULATION OF SLUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! is exceedingly bad form. Making those letters all red leads me to conclude an insane person is sitting up high in an ivory tower having an anxiety attack because they can’t seem to find their meds. Listening to this sludge is the precise opposite of “being informed.” This is more like, let’s just all indulge in a moment of mass psychosis and prepare to whack zombies in the back of the head with a shovel.

Wilst thou please just shut up?

There now, I feel much better already. Hubby says I am now sitting quietly and violently sipping tea. He would be absolutely correct.