I carried the shopping up the stairs in two trips and hated the second one

Dear Delyara, The first trip was manageable. The second felt personal. One bag had milk, potatoes, washing powder, and the cat food, which together apparently weighed as much as my patience. By the time I reached the top stair, I was angry in that very particular tired way where the anger is not truly about the bags, but the bags are what your body is holding while the whole week suddenly enters the moment. I put them down in the kitchen harder than necessary. Then I stood there breathing and thought how many women are carrying not only groceries but disappointment, tiredness, money worry, and a marriage conversation they haven’t had yet up flights of stairs every day without anyone calling it labour unless the bags split open.