I changed my mind about dinner three times before touching a pan

Dear Delyara, Eggs. No, pasta. No, jacket potatoes. No, maybe just something from the freezer because I genuinely did not have the internal strength for one more decision pretending to be a domestic routine. I think that’s what’s hard to explain about evenings. People see dinner as one task. It is not one task. It is ingredients, cost, energy, timing, who will eat what, what can become lunch tomorrow, what is already close to going off, what I can make without resenting everyone by the end of it, and how much washing up my future self can bear. By the time I actually started cooking, I felt more emotionally tired than before I entered the kitchen. In the end we ate omelettes. No one complained. That felt like success.