I nearly sat down and then someone needed toast

Dear Delyara, I had reached the sofa. I had actually lowered myself into it. I could feel that first tiny wave of relief starting in my back. Then one of the children wandered in and asked if I could make toast because they were “still a bit hungry,” which in this house means I’m about to stand up again whether I want to or not. I made the toast. No one was being unreasonable. That’s the thing that makes these moments hard to explain. Nothing was wrong. It was just one more request landing on a nervous system that had already had enough. By the time I came back to the sofa, the relief had gone. The evening felt different. And I felt quietly resentful of toast, which is not the life I imagined for myself.