"At what point in the scale of increasing severity does a stooshie become a stramash?"
I considered for a while and replied:
"At the point at which the storm outgrows the teacup, and the point at which a hill ceases to have any relevance for a mole and starts to have relevance for a mountaineer."
I don't think she was wholly convinced by that, and I foresee another philosophical discussion occurring soon. Well, I only have myself to blame - I did advertise for a "maid/philosopher".
"March of the Weavers" by Kollwitz. 1897