Yesterday, an innocent conversation with our plumber who also happens to be our neighbor, working on your home left me utterly mortified. And I have absolutely no idea how I did not suffer a coronary right then and there from the words he uttered.
So there we were, standing out the front door on the porch, just discussing some plumbing issues which was requiring action on our part, like needing to return some used parts yet again so as a solution he blurt out the words:
“Your mum seems like an angry person, I’d get her to do it.”
He meant no offense by it, stating as matter of fact or perhaps a slip of the tongue. But regardless I managed to jump to the conclusion that their household may possibly have overheard the brutal screaming matches that pass between us here. I mean for someone to deliver that, regardless of consciousness, surely they must have heard of the nonsense that I had so hoped would remain trapped and confined in these walls and for our ears only.
I have always been a little paranoid about the fineness of these walls, like paper they are, horrifically aware at times of an open window or two. Cringing with pain at both the sharp use of words intended to cut me down and the fact they may be venturing out to unseen eyes and unaware ears.
Those crude insults and harmful use of words that pass through our lips on a daily basis? It’s so embarrassing. I mean to think we have an audience! A completely unwanted and very much uninvited audience! I so desperately wanted what transpires here to remain secret, my burden to bear and at times share secretly with you. It’s just so crushing for to imagine passerby’s having front row seating to the belittlement show that has been my life.