Life is good at the Third Street Commune.

Last night First Floor Neighbor dropped her two kids off in our apartment when she ran out for provisions at Met Food. "There’s a big snowstorm coming. I need to get basics: Annie’s Mac and Cheese, Gorilla Cereal, Organic milk," she said. "Dja need anything?" 

Granny Smiths and dishwasher detergent.

As soon as she left, Husband and I struggled with that age old question: what do we want for dinner? Son wanted burgers, Daughter didn’t know. Husband was too distracted to even think about it. And he’s the cook.

"Let’s order out from Grand Canyon," I said.
"Grand Canyon? I love Grand Canyon," First Floor Neighbor’s 5-year old son shouted from the other end of the apartment.
"Order me some waffles, please. I love their waffles," FFN 8-year-old daughter said.
"Waffles. Waffles," Daughter chanted.
"Franks and beans, please," FFN’s son said.

So I called Grand Canyon and spoke to the man who would make everything right.  When FFN returned with the green apples and soap,  I told her that we’d ordered from Grand Canyon, that underrated and oft-ignored coffee shop on Seventh Avenue next to Pino’s. She agreed that its the perfect dinner solution when everyone’s in the mood for something different, the cook is too distracted to cook, and a healthy dinner isn’t the number one priority.

"That’s great," she said. Except now
they know that Grand Canyon delivers. I’ll never hear the end of it," she said. "

I set the table for 6 trying to create some semblance of a civilized family (or commune) dinner. Before long, the doorbell rang and my husband went down to pay the deliveryman and bring the food upstairs. 

Son didn’t even bother to transfer his hamburger and fries out of its Styrofoam take-out container; he just put it on top of his plate. FFN’s son needed help combing his  frank with his  beans, which came in a coffee cup. The girls wanted their waffles cut into pieces and they enjoyed slathering it with syrup.

Husband and I shared a cheese burger. He plated it and served me a glass of wine; very civilized. FFN just wanted a pickle.

After the feeding frenzy, the girls took a one-hour bubble bath together, FFN’s son waited patiently for them to come out. FFN and I shared news of the day, the world, the neighborhood.

It really makes so much sense to be communal. Sure it helps that our kids are best friends and that we like each other a great deal. Life is overwhelming enough. The company, the collaboration, and the convivialitiy really makes things just a little bit easier.