top of page

Op-Ed: Please, by all means, microwave your fish in our shared apartment

When I signed the lease with five other girls who I barely knew last October, I felt so excited for the multitude of possibilities that awaited us. From pregames to parties to study sessions, I just couldn’t wait to live out my real life “New Girl”. But honestly, I don’t remember Jessica Day microwaving an entire aquarium’s worth of fish on Monday morning. And I especially don’t remember fish smells lingering around for days on end, but apparently I was wrong.

See, the thing is, I love my roommates’ passion for cooking. It saves money, it’s healthy, and it’s a great skill to have. But I’m honestly not trying to smell like the Salton Sea whenever I go to class, and I don’t think it’s unreasonable to feel this way. I mean, I could tolerate the ham smoking, and I absolutely loved their baking era, and their hard boiled egg habit was no problem for me! But this is simply an assault on my olfactory sense, which is like my fourth favorite sense.

A lot of my friends suggested that I simply “talk to them”. Well I did, and in return I got a pregnancy test taped to my door with a loving note that read “hey girlie, just so you know a common sign of pregnancy is aversion to smell <3 :)”. So I took the test, microwaved it, and my roommates told me how happy they were that I was cooking fish too. I didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth, so I accepted that I had lost the battle and must continue on another day.

I have since replaced all of their fish with a plant-based alternative soaked in Omega-3 supplements. It doesn’t smell as foul, but I still can’t get them to stop talking about how much they love it.

I am at a loss. Let me tell you, this is the last time I ever live in an otter’s den.


bottom of page