I wanted one evening where nobody asked me a follow-up question

Dear Delyara, Not a big request, really. Just one evening where every answer didn’t open another small door. “What’s for dinner?” followed by “Do we have ketchup?” “Can you sign this?” followed by “And where’s my other shoe?” “Are you going out tomorrow?” followed by “Then can you also pick up…” By eight o’clock, I could feel myself becoming allergic to follow-up. Not because people were unreasonable. Because every extra question felt like one more tiny hand on my sleeve, one more call on a nervous system that had already been fully booked. I know this sounds petty. But I also think it’s deeply human. There are evenings when the problem is not the size of what is being asked. It is the fact of being asked one thing after another after another, while your own mind has had no quiet room to stand in all day. I answered everything. I just did it more tiredly than I wanted to.