So I have lived with people before. But conducting all of life's business with another person is another story entirely.
Ann and I trade off paying for groceries, gas, drinks, toilet paper, and whatever else we both use. We cook and eat together, which has been an endlessly interesting and enriching experience. For example, Ann ate rice and beans almost every day for four months because it was cheap and easy; I have zero interest in doing that. I think it's healthy to like food and not to get sick of eating the same thing over and over. So I encourage creativity and well-balanced meals with animals, vegetables, and minerals. Ann is gung-ho about this except when we have leftovers or aging pasta sauce chilling out in the fridge that need to be eaten before they get moldy. Other interesting moments include the fact that yogurt is one of my main food groups, and Ann habitually thought it was gross until about 3 weeks ago (same with tuna). Ann's house growing up was bare of condiments and milk with fat, and she had never eaten Spam before -- not the case for me. Today's disparity is that I like to mix fruit in anything I can think of, especially breakfast cereal, and Ann, in her own words, is "weird about fruit." I.e., she really only likes to mix fruit with anything if it's craisins.
My friend Amanda lived with her boyfriend for awhile and they had almost no food in the house, because they worked opposite shifts (she during the day, he overnight) and liked opposite foods. So they each bought what they wanted when they wanted it, and just ate different food -- except in the case of salt and vinegar chips and Arizona iced tea, which could be found in the apartment in spades.
Ann and I have different ways of doing things, of organizing the kitchen, of storing and using food, of measuring and cutting and serving and eating and shopping and cleaning up broken glass. We laugh sometimes about the language we've developed to discuss and negotiate these delicate balances, one part passive-aggressive, one part brutally honest, one part careful or analytical, using stories about our upbringing and our past living experiences.
Cohabitat. We share space. We have to live in each other's messes, which so far hasn't caused much stir. We share tasks, and while the division of labor rarely falls out of balance, we each get used to doing certain things and letting the other do what she does. For example, Ann mows the lawn. I do laundry. She makes tuna sauce and coffee. I make oatmeal. Ann drives the Rover. I keep track of our joint expenses.
We do everything together, we go everywhere together. Our separate time at work with other people is necessary and refreshing, and every now and then it works out so one of us has the day off when the other doesn't. Although we rarely get sick of each other, the alone time is welcome and helps us to recalibrate, reset and breathe our own fresh air before coming back together.
These are some valuable life lessons about living in community. Not always easy, but endlessly interesting and more than worthwhile, when it comes down to making rhythms out of the drumbeats of our lives.
Ann and I trade off paying for groceries, gas, drinks, toilet paper, and whatever else we both use. We cook and eat together, which has been an endlessly interesting and enriching experience. For example, Ann ate rice and beans almost every day for four months because it was cheap and easy; I have zero interest in doing that. I think it's healthy to like food and not to get sick of eating the same thing over and over. So I encourage creativity and well-balanced meals with animals, vegetables, and minerals. Ann is gung-ho about this except when we have leftovers or aging pasta sauce chilling out in the fridge that need to be eaten before they get moldy. Other interesting moments include the fact that yogurt is one of my main food groups, and Ann habitually thought it was gross until about 3 weeks ago (same with tuna). Ann's house growing up was bare of condiments and milk with fat, and she had never eaten Spam before -- not the case for me. Today's disparity is that I like to mix fruit in anything I can think of, especially breakfast cereal, and Ann, in her own words, is "weird about fruit." I.e., she really only likes to mix fruit with anything if it's craisins.
My friend Amanda lived with her boyfriend for awhile and they had almost no food in the house, because they worked opposite shifts (she during the day, he overnight) and liked opposite foods. So they each bought what they wanted when they wanted it, and just ate different food -- except in the case of salt and vinegar chips and Arizona iced tea, which could be found in the apartment in spades.
Ann and I have different ways of doing things, of organizing the kitchen, of storing and using food, of measuring and cutting and serving and eating and shopping and cleaning up broken glass. We laugh sometimes about the language we've developed to discuss and negotiate these delicate balances, one part passive-aggressive, one part brutally honest, one part careful or analytical, using stories about our upbringing and our past living experiences.
Cohabitat. We share space. We have to live in each other's messes, which so far hasn't caused much stir. We share tasks, and while the division of labor rarely falls out of balance, we each get used to doing certain things and letting the other do what she does. For example, Ann mows the lawn. I do laundry. She makes tuna sauce and coffee. I make oatmeal. Ann drives the Rover. I keep track of our joint expenses.
We do everything together, we go everywhere together. Our separate time at work with other people is necessary and refreshing, and every now and then it works out so one of us has the day off when the other doesn't. Although we rarely get sick of each other, the alone time is welcome and helps us to recalibrate, reset and breathe our own fresh air before coming back together.
These are some valuable life lessons about living in community. Not always easy, but endlessly interesting and more than worthwhile, when it comes down to making rhythms out of the drumbeats of our lives.
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