Veal for supper

I woke up this morning wondering if yesterday had been a dream. Some crazy man was in my house when I came home... talking about some business about being a detective. I don't know if all of it was real or if I am going insane. I just can't stand it anymore. It's just too much for me. When I moved in with Marcus (my deceased husband), everything was glorious. The street lights worked and the diner wasn't a place for lunatics. Maybe that guy, Michael I think was his name... who "investigated" my apartment yesterday was right. I must be on some sort of drug. It all seems like a blur now. How did this retroevolution of Washington Heights occur. Maybe the Jewish Homes would be better than this... well certainly not better but maybe safer? I guess it doesn't matter... let someone come in a murder me, what else is there that I need to do? I just hope Alexander doesn't get into trouble in this neighborhood.

Today I went to the butcher, to pick up some food for Alexander. He always tells me I don't give him enough food. He's eating me out of house and home. I don't mind buying him meat though because that butcher, Oscar, is one of the nicest men I've ever met. Such a nice man to have been serving that fresh meat for all these years. He's always giving me deals too. His place is always pretty full... but not with people I would think would be in a butchery. Shady looking men... with dark-colored trench coats and thick accents are usually hanging around the place... playing cards or talking about current events. Today when I went, Oscar was out of ground beef... I had to figure something else out or Alexander would be enraged.

"Well, if you don't have the beef what else do you recommend Oscar," I said.
"Aw, well the veal is great Ms. Pearl," Oscar replied.
"Veal? I don't know if Alexander would like that," I said.
"O'course he will! The meat's so tender 'cause they keep the little things in cages, so they can't use their muscle, some may call it inhumane, I say it's brilliant," he said.
"Alright Oscar, you always know what's best so I'll take your word for it," I said, admiringly. "I better get a pound and a half, Alexander can't stand not being satisfied after a meal."

I came back to the penthouse, hoping there wouldn't be another strange man eating Alexander's chocolate chip cookies in my apartment.
"Alexander I'm fixing you supper, it'll be ready in about thirty minutes or so," I said.
"Grandma, actually I'm going out to dinner with some friends tonight," He said, nonchalantly.
"Well why did you wait to tell me until now, I went to Oscar's," I said.
"I forgot Grandma, but I need 10 dollars too," he said, even more nonchalantly.
"Alexander, you're killing me," I thought in my head but not-surprisingly said outloud.
"And... can I get the car too," he asked, already knowing my answer didn't matter.

I didn't say a word. I put the veal in the freezer and handed him the key. "Call me later," I said... knowing the call would never happen. "See ya later grandma, love you!" he said.

I don't know how much longer I can take this. I just don't know what to do. This place is driving me crazy.

Grandma Pearl, Penthouse

While I was playing Mahjong last monday like I do every week, I received a distubring phone call from my grandson, Alexander. He said he just couldn't take living with his mother anymore. I understand, considering Lisa moved out of the house when she was 16, moving in with her 24-year-old boyfriend... she wasn't exactly an honor student. Alexander told me he wanted to move in with me. I love him very much so of course I obliged.

Oh, what a mistake. I am one of those people that enjoys stressing over nothing... such as a wedding 7 months in a advance or losing the two of spades... but now with Alexander living here I don't have time to stress about nothing. From sunrise to sunset I'm cooking for him, doing his laundry, giving him money, or constantly being conned into giving him my car. I'm a nervous wreck and know that in my old age a lady like me can be driven to death by kids like Alexander.

I have started to go to these stress relief meetings everyday, Alexander's mother told me I should go to them so I won't hate my life so much. The meetings aren't too bad, the food is crappy but I should probably be watching my weight anyways.

I don't really feel like cooking tonight... I think I'll take Alexander to Ming Ming's and just get some supper there. I hope he doesn't make me buy two entrees like he did last time. He had said that night that he was far too hungry to share with me. Alexander didn't even eat but half of his entree. He assured me we could get it to-go and put it in the fridge. "How am I supposed to fit these boxes in my fridge," I said. Of course he tells me to not worry about it, but that is what I do.

I just can't stand living in the penthouse by myself. It's just too big and too much to handle by myself. I can't tell any of my kids that or they'll surely put me in some old folks home to die. I'd rather be dead then rot in the Jewish Homes. Well nobody should worry about it too much because I'll be dead soon. sigh.