Bad Sign Number Six Million And Twenty-Eight

Trying to do a real honest-to-god diachronic language and getting TOTALLY ENTHRALLED by the etymology of every single word I come across. Complete fascination with the way rooms and their defining features ("stove" refers to both the room and the object! And don't get me started on the shifting semantic categories of bathroom words!) probably makes me a colossal nerd. But hey, who says that's a bad thing?

I Know She's Not Yelling At Me, But My Limbic System Doesn't

MOM: Hey, wait a minute! That email I sent to your sister with all that insurance information has disappeared!
ME: ... *office work*
MOM: It's GONE! GONE I SAY!
ME: ... *trying to call in prescriptions*
MOM: OH GOD OH GOD I SPENT TWO HOURS ON THE PHONE LAST WEEK WORKING ON THIS AND IT'S GONE! I HAD IT ALL WRITTEN ON A PAPER AND IT WAS SHREDDED AND THE EMAIL NEVER GOT THERE AND IT'S GONE
ME: ... that's a bummer.
MOM: YES IT IS!
ME: *trying to read an article*
MOM: OH GOD I HATE MYSELF THIS IS AWFUL I AM AWFUL EVERYTHING IS AWFUL
ME: *sigh* *opens email*
MOM: NOW I HAVE TO START OVER AND--
ME: It's on the printer.
MOM: --IT'LL TAKE FOREV--what?
ME: I printed a copy just so you could have it. It's also in your sent messages folder.
MOM: It ... it is?
ME: Right there.
MOM: OH MY GOD THANK YOU!
ME: Yeah, no problem.
MOM: YOU HAVE SAVED ME!
ME: I actually just did it so you'd quit yelling.
MOM: Was I yelling?
ME: You were wailing and gnashing your teeth.
MOM: Oh. Sorry.
ME: Hey, I'd have, too, at the prospect of another two hours in the Phone Vortex.
MOM: True. I AM SO RELIEVED YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW CAN I THANK YOU
ME: You can stop yelling.
MOM: Oh, right.

And that's how I saved Mom from the Phone Vortex, at least for today. And how I got her to stop yelling at herself. It was a good day.