I wanted dinner to appear without me deciding anything

Dear Delyara, That was the whole fantasy. Not restaurant food. Not takeaway. Not even a special meal. I just wanted not to decide. Not to look in the fridge, translate ingredients into options, guess what the children would reject, think about what was left for lunches, measure cost against effort, and stand there acting as if any of this was spiritually neutral. I’m tired of how much mental life sits inside feeding a household. By the time I finally made something, I wasn’t only tired from the day. I was tired of the question of dinner itself. I think decision-making is one of the least glamorous forms of labour, and one of the most constant. Tonight I wanted to be fed by a world that had already thought about me. That didn’t happen. But the wanting was real.