I live in a New York City apartment with two roommates (hi, team!), and along with that comes a narrow (but super-functional) galley kitchen. We share everything — the fridge, the toaster, the blender, the milk frother (*heart eyes emoji*), the French press, and, of course, the shelf space — with one exception. We each buy our own groceries and precariously arrange them, with some semblance of order, in the shared fridge and pantry.
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