Four Tries and a Very Sad Cup

It's the middle of July and I've been trying to talk myself out of driving somewhere every time I want iced coffee. The gas, the five dollars, the ten-minute round trip that always somehow takes twenty-five, it adds up. So this morning I decided to just make it myself. How hard could it be.

Harder than I expected. The first cup was just regular hot coffee poured over ice, which melts immediately and gives you warm, watered-down disappointment. The second cup I chilled in the fridge, which was fine but not quite right. By the fourth attempt I had figured out the ratio I actually liked, strong, a little cream, ice that stays ice long enough to matter, and stood at the counter drinking it while the kitchen was still quiet and the light was coming in sideways through the window. It wasn't a big moment. It was just a Saturday morning in July. But it felt like something I'd figured out, which I guess I needed.

I've been doing a lot of sitting with things this summer. The semester ended in May and I've been thinking about what I actually want the fall to look like, and what I want this blog to look like, and what I want in general, which is a very large question to be asking over iced coffee at a kitchen counter.

the glass that took four attempts

There's a draft I keep opening and rewriting and not posting. There's a Creative Writing course I registered for and still can't fully explain, not even to myself. I keep thinking I'll have a cleaner answer by the time school starts. I probably won't. I think that's fine.

quiet Sunday morning energy

Anyway. The iced coffee thing is solved. I'm counting that as a win.