Julia Gottlieb: The food in the fridge

Anthropologists sometimes study ancient cultures by examining their food consumption. The same could be done for college students.

Freshman year, we still get a lot of care packages and premade food from home. By senior year, our families have given up all hope of proper diet and have left us to our own devices.

This usually results in lots of food truck stops and refrigerators devoid of anything substantial. I once had a friend that didn't even bother with a refrigerator during his final year at school -- he just had a keggerator and a few condiments.

My house, however, is a bit different. Not only do five people use our refrigerator, we all seem to stockpile food. It's like we're preparing for a war or a blizzard: there have been times when we've had 30 pounds of chicken in the freezer, five different cans of parmesan cheese in the fridge and a giant box of leftover McDonald's honey mustard sauce in the pantry -- I think it's still there. Any home that actually owns and uses a gnocchi maker obviously covets kitchen space.

So the occasional fight breaks out, and it's not just over storage. There's always the issue of stealing food -- it's 3 a.m., you just got home, you're hungry and that banana looks awfully yellow and tasty.

But it's not yours, so you encounter the eating dilemma. Add to this confusion the idea that there are things that are acceptable to steal. There's milk, for example -- that's OK to drink, but your roommate's Tanzanian liquor? It's definitely not all right to invite the football team over to chug that one.

In order to avoid provoking the "where's my cucumber?" argument, I'd advise against appropriating your housemate's fresh produce, alcohol and frozen dinners. Bananas are OK as long as you leave a note.

Navigating all of these unspoken doctrines while meeting the need for quick and easy meals can be tricky. But it's all a part of living with people. I always thought that I would be in the clear with a single room. I knew I'd have my own space, but I never thought of all of the collaborative efforts a house of people has to make. Aside from sharing space and supplies, there are group purchases, cleaning and bills.

Upperclassmen will always give you advice on how to find a roommate that can cooperate in all of these endeavors. People will tell you not to live with your friends. Others will tell you to avoid strangers. Some will recommend a social atmosphere and others one where you can study.

These contradictions leave you with the impossible task of finding someone you sort of know who wants to spend large amounts of time with you -- but not sleep with you -- and who likes to party and study. It's about as fruitless as searching for the fountain of youth and if you ever find the perfect person, it's incredibly hard to ask the big question. Don't let anyone kid you -- it's exactly like asking for a date.

The perfect roommates are those you could run a business with. That's almost what a house is. You need to keep it clean, out of debt and free from internal conflict. Most houses deal with these matters by creating a commune, or by finding someone else to head the business, as with the Greek houses or on-campus living. I ended up with the commie situation. It's OK, I like the '60s.

Despite all of these warnings, sharing a house can be great. Just choose your roommates wisely -- you'll have to stick it out with them when they're sick and celebrate with them when they're happy. It's almost like a family, except that they have no obligation to love you forever. So watch your step.

Julia Gottlieb is a senior English and Music major from Lancaster, Pa

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