Originally posted July 22, 2007.
I have these theories which oversimplify life's problems, but give me little standards to live by which become etched in stone.
One of my first was, if you have roommates, only have one thing of milk in the fridge.
When I've had roommates in my life, I can honestly say they were the most excellent. And we would always share everything. Hence the one thing of milk in the fridge.
Then I would visit some friends, open their fridge and see four separate milk containers in the fridge. The psychology which occurs is astounding, yet so predictable. One person is inevitably less responsible than the other three. He wakes up, wants cereal, but hasn't gone out to replenish his milk supply. He innocently "borrows" someone else's milk, quite sure they won't mind.
But oh, they do mind. It's such a small thing, but once it happens a few times, it's like that little irritating sore that drives you nuts. You know it's coming and you almost revel in some sort of twisted satisfaction when you're proven right. And the irritation turns to pure unbridled hate. God help us all if he actually has the gall to "borrow" some cereal as well one day.
And when I bring up my theory, I used to get all kinds of excuses. "We like different milk." "I don't drink much, and he eats cereal like six times a day." Blah, blah, blah. And I would look at them in my very judgemental way and declare,"I give this whole arrangement ten months. Tops." And I was usually right.
But today I opened up my own fridge and saw two things of milk. Whole and skim. The ends of the spectrum. One for the kid, one for the wife. Me, I could care less.
Boy, I really hope they can make it more than ten months.