One of the hard parts of living with someone who’s not just a roommate you can tell to fuck off is that you gotta be caring and shit.

Nah, that’s not really that bad, because M. seems to bring a little bit of nurturing out of my badass self. The hard part is when your days are out of sync, and his rough day precludes your gloating.

Take today. His work is all tense as hell as they plow through the first quarter of VC funding, trying to make sure goals are met, demands faced and ultimately, despite the respite given with funding, no coasting is allowed. Meanwhile, I’m still discovering the little bullshit, happy dance moments as a newbie in a new person honeymoon period.

Today’s joy was barbecued. They told me when I started that there was barbecue on the outside patio during the summer. I expected shitty, catered, pseudo-barbecue, like when my old place cafeteria would have themes — “turkey with all the fixin’s” for Thanksgiving or fishnets draped over the counter for a “New England clam bake” with fake lobster roll and clam strips.

I was wrong. It was the ultra-friendly Facilities guys rolling out a gas grill and cooking up Carne Asada and chicken, as no doubt they’ve done in their own backyards. And, for sure the steak wasn’t the bargain rubber you find at cafeterias.

It reminded me of back when, a million years ago, I worked for a research lab with a rich benefactor’s name on the building. When I first started the entrepreneur turned philanthropist who founded the place was still alive and seriously kicking. (A dapper old dude living large and occasionally just hanging out at his building and visiting.) When he had his last hurrah (during a tennis game with his hot, young wife nearby) there were perceptible changes in the corporate culture without his touch.

I’ll tell you what I learned from those days, rich people sure know how to live.

If you’re a philanthropist, you’re not exactly doing a “let them eat cake” Marie Antoinette schtick. So, while you’re giving back there’s no sense in drinking from the faucet, when Calistoga water is chilling in the fridge.