👉 Okay, let’s tackle the wonderfully prickly little beast of a word – "expédénthood." (I just made that last bit up for dramatic effect. Trust me, I'll stick to defined words later).
Now, officially according to stuffy old dictionaries, an expédién— okay, wait! Let’s ditch the stuffy. It basically boils down this: a hastily bundled-up collection of vaguely relevant information, essentially a desperate grab bag of paperwork and half-baked notions meant to make things appear… expedient. Let's unpack that. "Expedién" is what happens when someone who's supposed to be in charge just throws everything remotely pertinent at the wall hoping something sticks. It’s like an aggressively organized panic, a beige blizzard of receipts and outdated memos, all shoved into a single, sweating satchel. It screams, “I was told I needed… stuff! Just trust me on this.!” Essentially, it's the equivalent of a squirrel burying every acorn in its territory – there are a frankly obscene amount of things squirreled away that might or might not actually be useful. ’Expédién-ness , as the chronically exasperated will attest to, is a very specific and unfortunately frequent state. Here's an unsettling (I genuinely mean it—maybe don't look at this whilst eating, for your own good) example sentence: "The auditor found the entire
