The Trials and Tribulations of Apartment Life

I think it is a fair and accurate statement to proclaim that we men are, shall we say, less domesticated than the opposite sex. We aren't as good around the house. We don't primarily cook as well, we don't clean as thoroughly, we tend to do foolish things that women by nature wouldn't do. As to what exactly those things are, I can't quite tell you yet, cuz I don't think I have done them all. However, I am pleased to tell you I am well on my way. For example, my new housemate and I successfully melted our first plastic bowl tonight.

OK, it was not intentional, I'm certainly not the type that gets off on trying to see how he can bend or break the laws of nature for a few cheap thrills (most of the time). I threw a used large plastic bowl into the sink. You know, the type used to put snack food in for parties and gatherings and such. Well, not thinking anything of it, there was also a collander in the sink, and I tossed the collander into the bowl. Less space taken up, after all; that means more space to put the inevitable amount of dirty cups, bowls, and plates that will accumulate until one of us thinks to throw them in the dishwasher, probably sometime around the middle of next week. Anyhoo, the housemate walks in and starts to boil up a dinner of ravioli (more on the boiling dinner factor later). Well, you can see what's coming (of course I didn't, but anyway); he goes to pour the boiling hot water into the collander and it goes into the bowl, and damned if it didn't MELT the damn thing.

This perfectly illustrates two things: 1) big plastic bowls are very cheaply made, and 2) saving space and time is no substitute for some common rational thought. Common rational thought to the single male apartment dweller is very rare, the thing that usually takes precedence is common rational laziness. I've known this well, I have after all faced this lifestyle with some interruptions (called living at home) since my freshman year of college nearly five years ago, and constantly since I officially struck out on my own over nine months ago. Laziness is what causes the laundry to not get done for at least three weeks, or until you're down to the very last pair of, well, everything. It causes the garbage can to get packed down tighter and tighter until you have somehow managed to stuff about twenty pounds of garbage into a space meant for maybe a tenth of that amount. Laziness causes you to cover up any stains or other messes on the carpet to either be covered with a piece of furniture, or scrubbed out with a washcloth and have carpet fragrance stuff sprayed over it, so you don't smell that something's wrong. Out of sight (or smell in this case), out of mind.

Finally, laziness is what causes the average single male apartment dweller to confine his cooking knowledge to that which can be done in the least amount of time. After all, can't spend time in the kitchen fussing through cookbooks or worrying about what you need a teaspoon of and what you need a tablespoon of (or is it the other way around?), there's a game/movie/anything to watch on TV or I got places to go. My philosophy for the most part is if I can microwave it or boil it, I can make it. My mother in an apparent effort to broaden my culinary horizons past this got me a couple cookbooks for Christmas, entitled (as God is my witness) "Help! My Apartment Has a Kitchen!" and "Help! My Apartment Has a Dining Room!" This and the fact that my housemate is an exceptional to the rule of the average single male apartment dweller and is a pretty darn good cook (or at least he claims to be, he hasn't killed me yet, so that's a good sign) has triggered the male survival and competition instinct in me, and so I guess now I have to learn how to cook, or at least try. After all, cooking IS in my blood; my mom's side of the family has passed down countless recipes through the generations and is big on creating culinary masterpieces, and my dad has made a career in the food service industry.

This, of course, is bound to lead to more of the earlier mistakes mentioned earlier, all of which make for rather funny anecdotes to be repeated at later times, even though they sometimes may not be too funny as they are happening. I started out in an efficiency, a very small apartment, very bare bones in regards to accomodations. I didn't even have a freezer; okay, check that, I did have A freezer, but more like an ice box that only seemed to accumulate ice and not really do that good a job at freezing anything I could squeeze into the thing. However, since the beginning of December, I currently live in a townhouse, splitting the place with a co-worker. Which, naturally, means that I now only have a 50-50 shot at being the one who makes the typical male mistake. Unless of course, the both of us combine for one, as was the case with our now former plastic party bowl.

I mentioned laziness as the reason for a lot of the single male apartment dweller's circumstances, but also finances quite often can come into play. After all, if I had more money, I sure as hell wouldn't be living in an apartment or splitting a townhouse. What do you do, when as in the case of this month, you pay all the requisite bills (college loan repayment, car insurance, credit card, electric, cable, phone, and of course the rent) and you have a grand total of $15 until payday? That's when you get creative, and nobody comes up with more "creative" ideas with low amounts of money than we single guys. I call it "creative", others may have different ways of describing them.

I have friends who live with their significant others and try to create whatever domestic bliss they can from their situations. That's all well and good but I am sure they remember the days when their survival instincts carried the day and they probably hope they never have to go back. Or occasionally, maybe they do. We are, after all, guys.