The English language is a beautiful, malleable thing. Slang, neologisms, and portmanteaux push at its edges constantly. Other languages contribute terms; patois and pidgins intermingle. Homophones and near-homophones turn ambiguity into a playground¹. Even the way we use a given word shifts over time, making the idea of “definition” little more than a snapshot. In the age-old fight between prescriptivism (words should mean what they mean!) and descriptivism (a word’s definition should reflect its popular usage!), my soul lies with the latter.

But I can not deal with the word “comfortability.”

I didn’t say anything when “impactful” arrived, because it was not meant for me. Go off, Deborah in Product Design².

I didn’t say anything when “operationalize” shambled through the door, because it was not meant for me. I’m sure there’s a strategy document somewhere that just wouldn’t be the same without it.

I didn’t even say anything when so many people used “comprise” and “nonplussed” incorrectly that the words started to mean the opposite of what they actually mean. “English is a beautiful, malleable thing,” I reminded myself through what I hoped was an encouraging smile but was really a rictus.

And then people started to say “comfortability,” and I realized that I’m not the descriptivist I thought I was.

First off, there’s already a word that means what it means. Can you guess what it is?

That word is “comfort.”

I love a wide-ranging vocabulary. Even words that feel like interchangeable synonyms hold different hues, making them fraternal twins rather than identical. When someone uses an unexpected word that really nails what they’re trying to communicate, that’s not showing off. It’s artistry.

But when you add more syllables to a word to make a longer word—without even changing the part of speech it is—then the only thing I hear³ is “check out this gravitas, y’all!”

It gets worse. Apparently, Comfortability has brought a cousin along, and they’re waiting outside in a Cybertruck. The cousin’s name is Efforting. I don’t know if I’ve met Efforting in person yet, but I’ve heard about them, and I have to be honest: Efforting sounds like they’re named after what it takes to survive a conversation with them.

1. Yes, this means that puns are in fact the highest expression of art, and I will go to my grave defending that idea. ↩︎
2. I don’t work with anyone named Deborah, and any resemblance to any person alive or dead is purely coincidental. ↩︎
3. And you will only ever hear this word, because no one would write it down unless they were taking up arms against its tyranny. ↩︎