A moment on the division of labor at 702 Paulina.
Maintaining a 4-bedroom residence is clearly a task that involves the cooperation and sharing of duties of all 4 members. But invariably there are some jobs that fall on one particular person – there’s no point in everyone keeping their own spreadsheet on house expenses, and some people just aren’t going to be as reliable when it comes to putting the recycling out on time.
So our house-duties have broken down in the following ways. Sam, with his technological background and stable financial situation has taken over the matters of money – that is, we all pay for things, but Sam gets the 10 cable/internet/electricity /phone bills a month, and manages the (quite impressive) house spreadsheet. It makes sense, he was the first one to move in.
JD, with his aversion to the idea that we have a “Garbage Room”*, has resigned himself to role of Trash-Caretaker, dutifully putting the rubbish into white then black bags and then out onto the curb every Wednesday for the garbage men. Plus he’s the only one who actually knows when they come.
For my own part, having a traditional Lutheran anxiety over seeing things wasted, coupled with my current pover-ific tax bracket, I’m an ideal candidate for Recycle-master. This means sorting the cardboard and newspapers out of the garbage room and putting them out for the other garbage guys who come on Wednesdays. It also means, every couple weeks or so, taking all of our beer cans and other aluminum, glass and plastic (OK just beer cans) down to the local recycling center and redeeming them for money. This is one cool thing about South Bay/Los Angeles - so far we’ve saved about 30 dollars by doing this, all of which then gets dumped back into buying more beer. It’s a vicious circle of awesomeness. The only problem is that each time I do this, the Spacemobile smells like a bar for about a day afterwards, even if I don't spill anything. It’s certainlynice to add “Garbage Truck” to the - list of roles the Spacemobile has played over the years, but between the smell, the cracked windshield, the muffler in the back seat, and the no-bumper, let’s just say that the Blue Beast isn’t exactly reeling in the chicks when I cruise Santa Monica Blvd these days.
Finally, Gabe, since we can’t get him to do anything else, has become the resident “Dirty-Work Man”, tending to our rare-but-important crisis-duties, such as cleaning blood out of the couch cushions and dealing with the Meatheads**.
**The Meatheads, to explain, are the quartet of El Camino Junior College students who live/party/park-their-trucks-in-our-driveway in the unit behind us.
*The Garbage Room, to explain… well… doesn’t really need any explanation.
The Garbage Room