It is almost inevitable with fourteen potential givers/receivers in our family that Christmas gifts will involve duplicates. But a water filter? 

It seemed like a brilliant idea when my son mentioned that he likes to have clean water up on the third floor, to get him one for his little fridge. I even had a coupon. But the twins are smart too and asked their sister to drive them to the store the day before I went. Fortunately their smarts includes saving the receipt so one was returned. But still. Not that college students are as likely as third graders to ask "Whatcha get?" when school resumes, but who wants to admit getting a pitcher?

I don't really know what impurities such filters screen out of what looks pretty identical before and after the magical effects of a white cone. But my son can taste it. He and the other million people who buy them. 

There are words that never made it past the filter of my lips. Snarky words. Practiced phrases, aimed to blame and bite. I am chagrined to hear them echo between my ears. There is no love laced between the syllables, no cloaked good intentions. I just wanted someone to know that I am right and they are wrong. 

How horrible. 

Silence is sometimes a better option than the gunky opinions that will never quench anyone's parched spirit.