Sugar

It was his turn to make the tea, but to sweeten the deal, my beloved spouse, the Carpenter, delivered not only a hot cup of black tea, but two tiny white powdered sugar donuts. Is it wrong that my first thought was, “What has he done wrong?”

Two sugar donuts surely means he’s broken something, or pushed us into overdraft, or is about to ask me to go into overdraft for some power tool he cannot live without, or something. It’s suspicious behaviour, I assure you.

White sugar powdered donuts are coveted in our house. They are a luxury grocery budget item only purchased when on sale (and they are rarely on sale) or when one of us is stressed about something and we just need a sweet pick-me-up.

It’s terribly inappropriate to say this, but we used to call them cocaine donuts because, though I’ve never dealt with that illegal substance, I was a kid in the 80s and I figure these donuts are about as addictive to me as those drugs were to Demi Moore’s character in St. Elmo’s Fire.

When the plastic container of powdered sugar donuts comes home from the grocery store, it’s as if everyone in my family knows they are in the house. The minute we hear one of us struggle to open that container, with its wide sticky label and indented plastic tabs, we gat