Like most people, I've had plenty of roommates, and after I left home I moved around quite a bit. I've lived in studios, one-, two- and three-bedroom apartments, and houses big and small. I've had private baths, I've shared baths, and I've always shared a kitchen.
In 2006 I moved in with friends who had recently had a baby, and I agreed to rent the basement apartment from them as I also worked as their nanny. There were very few windows in the space, which, as an artist, was a problem, but I had room for my furniture, it was safe and clean, and I loved my commute (which was 13 stairs). I shared the kitchen, kept my food items in one drawer in the fridge, used part of one low cabinet for dry food storage, and kept some boxes and incidentals in the unfinished side of the basement. I didn't have a car at the time so there was no issue of who was in the driveway, or where to park on the street. The neighborhood was quiet and modest and family-oriented, just minutes from a bustling University downtown area.
The folks I shared the house with were both very strong personalities, and occasionally I would hear them arguing heatedly - They were a truly loving couple, so I trusted that they would make nice in the end and they always did. They apologized profusely to me about the heated, rather loud nature of their arguments, but as long as they didn't go to bed angry, I wasn't bothered.
Since I was an artist, they asked me to help them spruce up the house, and I painted a few areas for them, including the kitchen, hallway and living room. We did our own cooking, and the woman of the household was always trying to get me to join in at family meals, but she cooked with more garlic than my digestive system could manage, so I had to turn down the offer.
Since I was the nanny for their son, he would occasionally visit and play in my living space, which I didn't mind at all. We would often do creative activities in my apartment as part of our daily routine.
Since they had to walk on my ceiling, it was a good thing they didn't do Godzilla imitations when taking a midnight trip to the bathroom - even when they had pretty romping social gatherings above me, I was still able to sleep (with a few earplugs kept handy just in case).
Being their nanny, I didn't have to do things for the family 'technically' in my off hours. But I knew that having a child was taxing, and occasionally I would tidy up for them, sweep, clean up the kitchen after a meal, put away the dishes, sweep off the front porch, or just do something that hadn't been gotten to quite yet. Sometimes no one noticed I did it, but when it was obvious that I'd gone a little above and beyond, there was always a thank you for it.
About two years later, the family made plans to relocate to Australia, and I moved out just ahead of them, leaving the space I'd occupied in good condition. But a funny thing happened. A few months before I had moved out, I mentioned to my housemates that I kept hearing scratchings and scrapings in the walls of my bathroom, which, being subterranean, could have been easily accessed by rodents at ground level. I got a call from my housemate not long after I had left, and she sounded quite put off. She said that she was surprised I had left my bathroom such a mess, and that a good amount of dirt and refuse was tracked all over the bathroom floor. Upon closer examination, it was discovered that a squirrel had burrowed its way into and through the bathroom wall, eventually boring all the way into the basement bathroom, hence the 'tracked in' dirt and mess on the floor.
After I left, the father of the household, whom I had come to admire and care for deeply as a great friend, mentioned that he missed me living with them. He said 'You were always pretty quiet, so it's not much different when we're up here and you're not down there. But when I do think about the fact that you're not down there, I feel sad." It was nice to know I had made such a good impression, and I keep in contact with the family to this day.
From there I moved in with a brand new mother and father and their tiny baby boy, having met the family via Craigslist. They offered me a really amazing private suite in a sprawling house surrounded by woodlands. But in less than two months, just as my job was supposed to technically begin full-time, the mother of the household lost her job, and they could no longer afford to have a live-in nanny, so I moved again.
Once more, via Craigslist, I met a local Michigan couple who were interested in sharing a truly humongous historic farmhouse that had actually been moved by truck from its original farm to an outlying location on seven beautiful acres. There was a barn with horse stalls and chicken coops, a pasture, and the sky wheeled with Cooper's hawks. Trees draped over the winding dirt road that led to the home, and deer leaped through the fields. They offered to share part of the front room as an office, and provided me with a private room and shared bath (with a totally awesome original claw-footed bathtub!). The view from my room looked West to a pasture and trees, and a little dirt road called 'Hobbiton Lane' wound away into the green landscape.
Again we shared the kitchen and the household duties, and no fights ever arose between us. They had an old English bulldog and a very aloof kitty, as well as visiting grandkids. Several folks moved in and out of the rooms upstairs, but they were all amicable. We never locked our doors - I never even had a key to the house, because I didn't need one - and it was truly a delight to live there. The extensive grounds were maintained by a lawn service (set up by the out-of-state homeowners) so we had it fairly easy in that regard. There were big, friendly get-togethers at that house - we had a band in the barn, and had many gatherings around the fire pit. But the homeowners decided to sell, and we were all left hanging, wondering if we would have to disband, or if we should go ahead and move elsewhere together. In the end, after some nail-biting and doing our best to trust the Universe, we found the house we currently share, a lakeside, wooded, single-family home. Though we've never written a contract or formal agreement concerning my 'lease' with them, I've committed to staying with them, until June of 2012. At the new place things are a bit more cramped, and we have to do the yard work ourselves, but everyone pitches in, and we still get on well. The formal lease on the house goes for three years, but I've made the decision to move on, not because of dissatisfaction in the house or the housemates, but simply because I sense it's time.
I'm essentially very used to sharing living spaces, and I truly enjoy being part of a sort of hodgepodge of folks. I say something when I'm concerned, stay open to communication, and still try to go the extra mile now and again to let my housemates know that I appreciate the same from them.
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