Unsweet Half-Sweet

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]ced tea. I like mine unsweet; Jamie likes hers half sweet.

When we first married, we drank a lot of iced tea. Morning, afternoon, and night. We drank it not because we lived in the South, but because we had no air conditioning in our ratty apartment.


In only one summer, we destroyed every piece of furniture we owned with moisture rings from tea glasses. Life without a functioning AC was misery. We’d recline on the couch and press cold glasses against the sides of our necks. And of course, we’d complain about the heat.

We happen to be excellent complainers.

When we moved into a new place, we finally had a functioning air conditioner. You would’ve thought we won the lottery. We’d sit in front of the vent and let it blow in our faces. For the first time in our young marriage, we could relax in the den without leaving sweat stains on the sofa.

Over the years, we bought nicer furniture. A new couch, a new coffee table, and we started using coasters. After all, that’s what adults do. We quit sipping so much iced tea, we bought better insurance, and I even started cutting our grass regularly.

Well, semi-regularly.

But sometimes, on Sunday afternoons, or at barbecues, I’ll fix Jamie and I both iced teas. We’ll press the glasses against our foreheads like we used to. Then, we’ll look at each other with half-smiles and talk about our pathetic first apartment. About how dank and miserable it was.

And how much we miss it.

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