Roommates. We love them.
Thankfully, I now have the best roommate—my husband. Even better, we share everything. There is no “he ate my food” or “she used my shampoo.” It is all just… ours.
But it was not always like that.
Right before I got married, I rented a room in a house with a 90-year-old woman. Before that, it was college roommates. And before college, it was my mission companion.
In other words, I have had a wide range of roommate experiences.
And one thing I have learned?
Apparently, I cannot be trusted around other people’s ice cream.
The time I had an “aha” moment was when I ate my roommate’s ice cream and needed to replace it before she found out.
It was a stressful night, and I kept waking up. Eventually, I wandered to the freezer to see what we had. That is when it happened.
The chocolate Tillamook ice cream stared straight at me.
It was not just there—it was calling me.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the couch, staring at the white, scraped-clean bottom of an empty container, wondering how my life had led me to this moment.
Panic set in immediately.
I started pacing. I needed a plan.
DoorDash? My card would not work.
Drive to the store? It was 3:00 a.m., and I value my safety slightly more than dairy-based redemption.
Text someone to DoorDash it for me? Desperate. Tempting. Still a no.
And then—clarity.
I will just make her ice cream.
I grabbed almond milk (the closest thing we had to real milk), raw cane sugar, and cocoa powder. I mixed it together like I knew what I was doing, poured it back into the container, and slid it into the freezer—quietly hoping she would not wake up craving ice cream for breakfast.
Against all odds… it froze.
Unfortunately, it froze into something with the structural integrity of a brick.
Later, I watched her open the freezer, take it out, and just… stare at it.
Confused. Slightly concerned. A little sad.
That was my breaking point.
I confessed.
She took it well—better than I deserved, honestly—but she just nodded slowly, like she was reevaluating several life decisions, including living with me.
Roommates teach you a lot about life. Boundaries. Forgiveness. And apparently, that some midnight decisions should never involve dairy improvisation.
But I guess that is the beauty of it.
You live, you learn… and you try not to touch your roomates ice cream again…. But as for my husbands dairy treats….. free game
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