I love the things people say "under their breath." Those things they want to say and want you to hear, but they are too afraid or they know it's wrong. That mumbling from the kitchen, bathroom, or bedroom you know you heard and you know what you heard. You weren't supposed to hear it, but you did, so you pretend you didn't, but now you know. If they knew you knew, it would be really bad for a while maybe a day, maybe a week.
I think a lot of things a person says under their breath stems from some sense of unfairness. He did that, she did that--or didn't. He always does that, she always does that. So while he's in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher because he's convinced he does it "all the time" or he ends up having to do "everything around here" while she sits in front of the computer. Maybe as he was walking over to clean after dinner he was hoping the dishwasher was emptied. Maybe just maybe . . .
It doesn't matter that nine times out of ten it is empty. And that there are many days of the week I empty run the dishwasher during the day. What matters is that moment, that right now that seems like all the time.
Why say anything? Because what you are saying under your breath sounds silly enough or trivial enough or immature enough. Maybe it will start World War III. Who knows?
My mom was one to do that. She'd mutter, fuss, and mumble. Talk to the walls in the kitchen out of frustration about God only knows what. I'm not a mumbler, mutterer, or fusser. I know what I know. I know that life isn't fair. Nobody cares as much about you as you do. People, even our families, will use us if you let them. If I choose not to say anything, it's my fault, not theirs.
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