Life in the Commie Anarchist House

I've been meaning to write something about our unusual communal living situation. I find it very hard to explain to people. We live in a house that belongs to another couple. We share the kitchen, living room, dining room, basement, internet connection, yard, etc. We have our own three rooms, plus bathroom. They have their own two rooms, plus bathroom. We pay them rent. We take turns preparing dinner and doing the dinner dishes. They sometimes play with Dutch. Every day, somebody has probably just made some baked goods, and is happy to share.

It's a weird setup. I've never met anybody doing anything quite like this. I know plenty of people who have lived with other adults in shared houses, but never people quite so old, and never people who had kids. So far, it's working pretty well. We have our own designated spaces, and none of us invade the private rooms of the other family (except Dutch, when we're not paying attention). We still all seem to like each other okay, so far. Brendan and Emma are eccentric and interesting, avowed anarchists whose hobbies tend toward the cozy, like quilting, canning, doing sudoku, watching bad TV, and reading good literature. Happily, all our eccentricities are not conflicting, so far. The only disadvantage is that we don't really have a nice evening hang-out spot, but that's not a problem most of the time, since Cook and I both have to work after the kids go to bed anyway.

And the dinner thing is kind of awesome. Not only do we not have to cook dinner every night (I think we're all saving money and energy with this arrangement, and getting to eat different sorts of food), but sitting down to dinner every night with people who are not members of the family has an amazing civilizing effect on us. Cook and I have to step up to the plate and smile and make conversation slightly more scintillating than the sort of bare minimum how-was-your-day and oh-there's-something-we-need-to-do-about-the-kids sort of conversation we would be likely to have otherwise. Dutch has to behave better than she would otherwise. And after we finish eating, there's a sweet, brief period of just sitting there chatting before one family goes to the kitchen to wash dishes and the other family disappears into its den. I find that this provides me with two major benefits. First, I have to take a few extra minutes and just be a human being, instead of dashing off to read a chapter or write a paper or whatever. Second, I get an opportunity to see Cook and Dutch and sometimes even myself in a more positive light. Cook is really funny, something I sometimes forget when I see him only in stressed-out mode. Dutch can actually be charming, something I'd decided was out of her repertoire, and is even slowly improving her manners.

It's not a permanent solution to our housing problems, and I can see how it could get really uncomfortable, but it's given us some real rewards beyond the rent savings.