The Life and Times of the Curious Cockroach

Location: Brussels
Below is a conversation I had dozens of times while on exchange

Dear Reader,

For the purposes of this post, I ask you to conjure up a certain image in your head.

You live in Brussels. You are in your early twenties and are almost broke. You are either an exchange student, or one of those prized locals exchange students love to befriend.

For some reason, you and I have just become acquainted with one another. Perhaps it’s because I asked to borrow your pencil and you were intrigued by my funny accent.

We are sitting at the back of a lecture hall, committed to our seats for the next two hours. We begin to make conversation. We ask each other where we come from, why we are in Brussels, and why in god’s name we chose to enroll in an 8:00am microeconomics course this term.

Soon enough, we start talking about our respective living arrangements. You tell me about your apartment, and how you share it with three other people. “The hallways can get crowded at times,” you admit, “but it is an otherwise cozy arrangement.” When it’s my turn, I tell you that I have thirteen housemates, sharing a kitchen and backyard, and that that too is a cozy arrangement.

“Thirteen housemates?!” you exclaim. Then, dropping your voice so that the professor stops glancing in our direction, you whisper: “but how can so many possibly share one kitchen?”

This is when, dear Reader, I pull out a notepad, and perform the calculation that I have performed so many times before with new acquaintances.

I write down the number 14 (myself now included), and make the following subtractions from it:

minus two: the housemates who have microwaves in their rooms. They require no other cooking apparatus, and thus don’t venture out of their rooms often. Only trace of their existence are the plastic wrappers from their microwavable dinners, dumped in bulk into communal garbage bin once in a while.

minus one: the housemate who suffers from severe allergy to wheat, cats, and people. Thus cannot tolerate copious amounts of beer and pasta consumed in kitchen, nor the people who consume it for that matter. Communication with other housemates, if any, via facebook and stickie notes.

minus four: the housemates with family living close by. Occasionally walk into kitchen with their groceries, but quickly walk back out, appalled at state of kitchen, and go cook  elsewhere.

minus one: the housemate who lives in “Cursed Room” (right above kitchen) and thus doesn’t last long in the house anyway. Each consecutive tenant of Cursed Room forced to endure the following: 1) noise from weekly karaoke sessions, 2) noise from heated debates during house meetings, and 3) putrid smell of all sorts of fish, cooked by housemate of undisclosed nationality.

Total number of housemates who actually use kitchen:
14 – 8 = 6

Now that really is a cozy number.

“See? It doesn’t matter if there are four or fourteen people living together” I say to you with a big grin on my face, “these things just have a way of working themselves out.”

The narrow houses of Brussels