Bagatelle, is the latest.
A noun that means, a thing of little importance. A throwaway occurrence or set of circumstances…in other words, something not to lose sleep over.
It also describes, an easy task, a light piece of music, and a small game you play on a sloping board.
But we’re interested in the first meaning…an event of insignificance.
I’ve never heard bagatelle used in conversation, though it keeps coming up in prose and will admit, looks pretty awesome on the printed page.
It’s nice looking, the way it’s spelled using three, plain, ordinary words. Bag-a-tell/e, one could say, describes itself, to a T.
Shelia said to Amy, as they walked down Fifth, “You get so upset over nothing. It’s a mere bagatelle to cast off, like lint, on your cashmere. She means nothing…a blowjob in back of a limo en route to the airport.”
Yes, I too occasionally need a little fluff to divert and distract. Like Bono says, whatever gets you through the night.
But back to the English language that rarely bores nor disappoints.
I made a list of my own bagatelles. All the irks and miffs that rile and rankle, and just plain drive me crazy.
They didn’t call, she’s late, he didn’t say hello.
What’s that? How rude. Don’t expect to see me again.
Minutia, ephemera, those Micky Mouse, minor details weighing us down, wasting our time.
Nonessentials…trifles…the inconsequential trivialities that spring up like a sudden rash.
Hogwash, hokum, hooey and phooey. Twaddle, tommyrot, picayune, penny-ante poop…the small potatoes of life having no meaning nor staying power.
I’m thinking after my morning shower, before leaving the house, to make sure all bagatelles, as pretty as they may preen, are all placed in the shredder where they belong.
We’ll call it, traveling emotionally light.
Language, a force unto itself.