My New Pesach Office

A couple of nights ago my landlord caught me in the hall of our apartment building.
Now I wasn't 'caught' because I was doing something wrong, its just that I don't really like to interact with the guy any more than I have to. Its not that I don't like him, I actually think he is a great guy in his awkward kind of Hasid way. But it seems like every time I talk to him, my life gets a little more cumbersome. "Maybe you could think of me and take out the trash?" or "What kind of tiles should we lay down in the hallway? Maybe you could go to the tile store and pick some out?" or "Perhaps you could see if the water heater is flooded in the basement and fix it?"
So the other night he catches me in the hall.
I am expecting something like "maybe you could keep me in mind and move that bathtub up three flights of stairs?"
But this night he comes out with a request that took me totally by surprise.
"So maybe you have a candle?"
"Oh, yeah sure David, I have a bunch."
"Do you think you could loan me one?"
You bet, as long as I don't have to spackle your wall. Of course all my candles are votive candles with things like the hand of God and Santa Barbara and St. Stephen on them. Definitely not the kind of thing you press into a Hasid's palm as a token of neighborly good will. After some rummaging around I find our box of tea candles and head out to give him one.
He gives them a slight disapproving once over and asks if I have anything longer. I don't, (except for the Gentile candles I obviously can't hand over) and he resigns himself to one little tea candle gingerly picked out of the box.
Apparently, the night before Passover, Jews take candles and rummage around the house, looking in all the nooks and crannies to make sure there is no leavened bread hanging around. Instead of being sensible about it and using a flashlight to hunt out the pesky crumbs, tradition dictates that it has to be a candle. I figure out pretty quick that David was supposed to buy a candle and take it home for that night's search but in classic absent-minded David fashion he totally forgot. I could just see his wife and his kids rolling their eyes at their flaky father walking through the door with this little tea candle. I am sure Mrs. David whisked the candle out of his hand and rumbled down the hall to fetch a more appropriate candle from a neighbor who would roll their eyes with equal pity, knowing that absent-minded David was down the hall shrugging his shoulders in front of the children again.
So there it is, I think. Not so bad. He just needs a candle. David starts down the stairs but stops midway and I know something else is coming.
"So I am going to rent you my office for the week."
"What?"
"I am going to rent you my office for the week, you can take it out of your rent."
Apparently, Kosher Jews who need things fixed in their offices over holidays, (when they are not supposed be working and no one else is supposed to be working for them), find some trustworthy Goyim to rent their space and oversee the work, circumventing the sticky religious legal issues of getting things done over a holy time of rest. I have heard that the same thing goes for bread during Passover. If a Hasid has some tasty leavened bread, but Passover is around the corner, he simply "sells" the bread to an accomplice Goy and then "buys" it back after the holiday, basically putting a head-fake on the Angel of Death.
As I am always down to nutmeg The Lord, I agreed with relish.

I enjoyed Sader last night with my friends The Family Bloomberg. Amos, Daniel and Ramon put on quite a show complete with chopped liver, bowls of tears, brisket, candles and Hebrew chanting and songs. We didn't have the crazy sweet kosher wine, but some Italian wine served us well. After dinner we played some songs on the guitar and played "find the matzah" and ate flourless chocolate cake. It was nice. It made me want to enjoy the Sader meal every Spring.

This morning, a little hung over, I let the workers into my office so they could sand the floor.