It’s official: Townhouse 35 has officially become an example of communal living. No, we aren’t weaving our own ponchos or growing our own potatoes (though if our high utility bills persist, we may just have to), but life around the ‘house has become a team effort.
We are far from being the only house to implement this strategy, and I must say, it works. Gone are the cries of, “I don’t know who ate what, but I am NOT cleaning this bathroom!”; we now have a complete, rotating cleaning schedule complete with little boxes to check upon completion of assigned chore.
Despite the designated duties, I have absolved myself of having anything to do with our turgid fighting fish, Garry (named after an oh-so-courteous proprietor of a local Mexican eatery), as my involvement in his upbringing would likely result in the unintended but untimely demise of said fish. As a side note, a certain member of the household would not lose much sleep over poor Garry’s death (you fish-hater).
Paper products and hand soap are among our communal grocery items; food was removed from the category of communal property after it became clear that some people are givers and others, takers. Into which category do I fall? When it comes to food, not the first (especially if chocolate or cheese may be involved). Occasionally, some goodies make their way into the realm of communal property, such as the delectable Belgian chocolates currently sitting atop our microwave.
Television’s warm glow has become the fire of our tribe, a place to congregate, channel-surf and discuss the day’s events. We find programming that is acceptable to all, or at least to the person holding the remote control. Yes, we have become like a finely-tuned machine, even taping “American Idol” for one another and recapitulating what happened on the one-hundredth episode of “Charmed” (a bit of a let-down, I’m afraid).
The telephone may be one of our best examples of community living. There is the obvious aspect of community: we all have to share the same phone line. However, there is a more important facet of telephone use in our house: covering for each other when we don’t feel like taking a call, and trust me, the stories we collectively come up with are interesting, to say the least. Hmmm, perhaps I have already said too much…
The cornerstone of our humble, slightly dysfunctional community has to be our makeshift quote board. There, guests can look upon such gems as, “Something smells in here and it’s not the trash and it’s not me, so I don’t know what it could be!” Ah, the bon mots are priceless and automatically include guests in our revelry.
In all seriousness, in order to live successfully with others and to even share a bedroom, one must be willing to compromise and respect the different habits of roommates. No one can get their way all the time, nor should they; nothing is less attractive than a spoiled brat over the age of five. Humans are social creatures, and where better to get in touch with our communal roots than in a townhouse?
The world is divided into two groups of people: Bert and Ernie lovers and Bert and Ernie bashers; yet, our house is living proof that these two groups of people can indeed cohabitate. Communication is key in communal living, and it has to be-they start with the same six letters, after all.
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