It’s Monday and Rosa (one of my roommates) and I are dicing yellow onions and mincing garlic. She takes a sip of her hazy IPA as I crack open a sour ale. We say cheers to surviving Monday and I start chopping dino kale as she drains and rinses the chickpeas. Everything is in its place before we turn on the stove.
My three roommates and I sit in mismatched chairs at our dining table. Tonight we gather over spiced chickpea stew and naan and probably rice, too. Someone asks “So, how was everyone’s day?” and we all take turns sharing highs and lows. Moments of silence crop up when we all happen to take bites at the same time. We talk about politics and current events. We talk about the past (past roommates, past lovers, past friends, and our past selves) and the future (like, is everyone down to eat budae jjigae tomorrow night?).
We enable each other to drink more wine than we probably should for a Tuesday night. We talk about local politics over oyakodon and dissect childhood traumas over homemade pizza. Well aware that our privileges make many conversations painfully ironic, we discuss how wages never accurately equate to their value in society and explore the ethical dilemmas of many things that none of us have ever had to face, like the prenatal testing of down syndrome. Quite frequently, we venture into taboo topics (when does a simple preference become a fetish?) and much more than I won’t bring up here. We talk about some things that might make a casual listener squirm in their seat, but for us seem fine for a Wednesday night.
We also talk about mundane things like housekeeping and gossip and back pain. Thursday night may spark a conversation about our experiences in different corners of Clubhouse (which probably warrants its own, longer post). On Friday we might watch a movie after dinner, like The Handmaiden, John Wick 3, or Eighth Grade, which I would rate 12/10, 6/10, and 8/10, respectively. On Saturday and Sunday, we get a break from each other.
This isn’t to say that things are perfect. No living situation ever is. Sharing a home is never devoid of disagreements and tensions, whether living with friends, partners, family, or even alone. Whose turn is it to swiffer the floors? Am I the only one who is freezing at 66F? Did someone eat the last cookie? God, I really need to pee. We all have good days and bad days, but at the end of the day, we’re all here for each other.
I think our family-style lifestyle is fairly rare compared to most people in their late-twenties. It’s partially a product of quarantine and of being in San Francisco, which is the roommate capital of the United States. Even then, most of my friends who have roommates don’t dine together quite as often as we do (3-5 times a week). So I guess it’s partially luck too, that brought us here. I’m sure things will be different once indoor dining and parties become safe again.
Rosa moved out this weekend, marking an end of an era. Besides being the best and most prolific chef in the house, she also brought so much more to the table on top of very delicious homemade kimchi: warm enthusiasm, poignant observations, and exceptional kindness. Dinners will indubitably be different without her, and we’ll miss her a ton.
Will I live in this house forever? Of course not (sorry landlord). But for a moment in time, nothing was perfect and yet everything was in its place.
Some tunes you might hear playing from our living room speakers:
prom dress by mxmtoon
and everything else from mxmtoon #localmusic?
Obvious Bicycle by Vampire Weekend
because we’re into the collegiate indie vibe
cardigan by Taylor Swift
yep
Thanks for reading!
Angela
All featured songs from this year in this playlist:
Looking for last year’s playlist? (they’ve moved)
Have thoughts? Let me know ❤️