So Much for the Commune

A week with 5 other people is reminding me that it’s a good thing I don’t live in a commune. There is no better way to learn the idiosyncracies of people than to cook and keep house with them. We are all rather opinionated, or so it seems.

The first controversy was how to thaw the 8 frozen hamburgers we inherited in the freezer. Two people, including a doctor, were in favor of leaving them out on the kitchen counter all day. I advocated a few hours out and then back in the refrigerator to continue thawing. I had read multiple things about the dangers of meat left at room temperature. When they weren’t looking I put them back in the fridge at lunch and they never knew the difference since I was making the spaghetti sauce.

Then there’s the issue of how to deal with people with dietary likes and restrictions. For example, David and Mary are lactose intolerant. Neal doesn’t like lettuce or salad dressing. A couple of people are of the mindset that you just cook and they can choose to eat it or not. I heard Bill, last night’s cook, remarking in the kitchen, “They can just take the damn pills,” obviously talking about his choice to cook with cheese.

This collective living reminds me how much my husband I have moulded our lives together, so there are really very few issues like these. We of course have our own likes and dislikes, but by now they are mostly known and accepted.

Tomorrow we head home, where we can thaw our meat as we wish and choose to serve the cheese on the side. It’s been great in many ways, but sometimes 6 opinions is just 4 too many.