Granmama

I have had the most exhilerating day today. Well, in comparison to the rest of the week atleast. Today I crawled out of my house (my skin having turned sun sensitive and translucent) to run errands. By errands I refer to those evil creatures that lurk in your subconscious mind, silently gnawing away at your conscience. With my sieve like conscience I ventured out into the real world to finish some work for my grandmother. Having walked all the way to the bank I started feeling like such a good, dutiful, grand-daughter again that I decided not to push my luck and came back home. Hence I accomplished one millionth of what I was supposed to in that I identified the treacherous and perilious path to the bank. Although it appears as if I chickened out it was in actuality a courageous beginning I assure you. If you knew my granma you would know, that to do any work for her is to paint 'I love Iran' on your walls and call Bush junior for dinner. She thinks everyone wants whatever she's got. Especially her money... and her watermelon seeds. Don't think the squirrels who steal the watermelon seeds from her garbage get away. I'm pretty sure those seeds are laced with arsenic before they're thrown away. She's really, quite a good woman... I mean who would want squirells to steal their watermelon seeds right? It's totally understandable. But I'm always super cautious when I'm doing her work. If there are two things I hate more than anything else on this planet, it's misunderstandings and false accusations. Who loves them right? It's just that I positively dread being misunderstood. I'm saying this not in the profound sense (you've read the rest of this para right?) but in the day to day 'I did not take a cookie from the cookie jar' way. My grandmom is the undisputed queen in this department. She once accused my mom of swiping a cool 40k from her when my mom had taken that money from her to spring clean her house where the furniture qualifies as artifacts. In addition to the mouldy wood there exist an array of interesting fauna in the dingy nooks and cranies found in abundance in her bat cave. I am quite sure i saw a flying samurai lizard in her house once. How else must one explain how and why a lizard launches itself off a wall to collide with a shrieking and evidently hysterical woman who is equally evidently going to squash it with one swift blow from a broom. I am quite sure they were planning an attack. The lizards manned the aerial attack while the roaches went for our legs. They also had a secret weapon. We found what looked like rat crap all over the place but to date we haven't been able to find a live rat. Once my grandmom called me up (she lives in a different city) to give me a surprise. She had left icecream in her freezer. This she told me six months after she'd left. When I finally reached there (after another month had passed) I found tons of brown stuff enveloping the fridge. They were the size of rice grains and I was hoping and praying that they didn't sprout eyes and wings. In a bucket in the corner of the kitchen I had another surprise waiting for me. There were three dead rat babies in a bucket. I had no idea how they got there and more interestingly I didn't know if she had left them there for me to deal with. They were almost completely decomposed. If she had told me six months later I would have found just their skeletons. That would have been easier to deal with...
Inspite of all this I really do care about my grandmother, or so I keep telling myself when I'm skulking about her bat cave trying to find some paper or the other that I need to do her work. Shes the only grandparent I have left. I'd rather do all this stuff for her now than regret it later. After all, she does help my sieve like conscience heal and my confidence grow. Hence whenever I see a breathtakingly beautiful model on tv I say to myself, I bet she's shallow as hell and doesn't care about her grandmother at all.