ジャッキーの これ、どう思う？ While we're on the topic ...

The entrance to Jackie's basement studio apartment JACKIE HOFFART PHOTO

They say it takes a village to raise a child, but what if you aren't raising a child? Do you still really need that village? I used to dream about living in some kind of alternative community where all of my friends lived in the same complex, like a hippie version of the 1992 movie Singles. In this utopia, we would cook together, share some of the basic costs of living and help raise each other's children . . . and all of our lives would be much richer and more diverse as a result.

But my experiences living in close proximity to friends has not been encouraging. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if that friends-complex idea isn't actually my idea of hell.

Right now, I'm living in a studio apartment in the basement of a three-level house. There are two separate studio apartments in the basement — my friend lives in the one next to mine.

In fact, she was the one that suggested I move in and I'm grateful for that. It seemed ideal to live next door to someone I'm friends with. Each of our apartments has a kitchen and bathroom, so technically, we only share the front door. I thought I'd have all of the advantages of living alone — not having to worry about other people's dirty dishes in the sink, private space — but none of the disadvantages — loneliness or the burden of household costs, like the Internet.

But over the past 10 months, my relationship with my friend has deteriorated as a direct result of living next to each other. It's not unusual for us to go three weeks without seeing each other, and these days we seem to annoy each other more than we make each other happy.

I think the basic problem is that most people view their homes as a private space in which to restore oneself from the stress of the world. I certainly see my home this way. I have organized my apartment so that it is a cozy and friendly — but also functional — space (I do a lot of work from home, too). But the older I get, the less mental or emotional space I have for much social interaction inside my home. I like to wind down at home, not wind up. I so crave the peace and quiet of my home that I don't have any incentive to open my door to my neighbor, to invite her over for a drink or a meal, or to just check in.

To be honest, I just feel like I don't have enough time or energy to invest in another person when I come home from days that I've packed full of investment in other people and activities. And somehow, of all of the goals and plans and values that I currently hold, it seems like investing in the friendship with my neighbor stresses me out more than it calms me — and if a friendship feels like work then … it doesn't seem right to me. I have plenty of friends already.

And that's the other thing. Normally when you see friends, it's because you planned to do so. You look forward to seeing them, you meet, catch up, do whatever — it's fun and you feel good. But when you see your neighbor, it's usually unplanned. You weren't exactly looking forward to it, you may not have time or energy to catch up or do anything — it's exhausting!

There are so many mundane details we have to work out, too — paying the Internet bill, dealing with our landlord when something goes wrong, whether we annoy each other by being loud . . . It's just not that fun, and resentment can build quickly.

A I think I'm just in a very hermit-like phase of my life. Later on, if I am lucky enough to get into another long-term relationship and eventually have a kid, I'm willing to reconsider the idea of the "commune utopia" — under one condition: that we do not live directly next to anyone we already know and are friends with. I think it's best to just have neighbors who are neighbors in the beginning — maybe you become friends or maybe you don't. But I'm not so sure I want to risk damaging an existing friendship by introducing all the awkward details of living as neighbors into our relationship. Sounds like too much work.

Next time, my topic is ... online dating