If there’s one thing I’m good at life, it’s getting shabbos meals, break-fast meals, shabbos leftovers, places to sleep in far flung towns and a variety of other freebees given to frum Jews who know how to mooch. I’m not sure that there’s a better term than “mooch”, but most people, especially those of a yeshivish and chabad bent are pretty aware of the plight of singles who don’t want to eat a cold tradition soup by themselves for shabbos. Yes, I have spent lonely shabbosim by myself trying to recall the halacha of making kiddush over crackers, because in my bachelor state of preparedness I had nothing chashuv to make kiddush over and no bread to substitute the lack of chashuvness in the drink department.
Being the expert I am, I know that awkward look on someone’s face when they don’t exactly know how to say they don’t have a place to eat. I also know that no one wants to eat alone and that no one walks 3 miles to shul and wants to go home without a meal invite. My wife and I finally moved into an apartment that resembles a real home, after spending the last bunch of years living in an odd assortment of places including the attic of a shul and an office building, it’s nice to have a place that I can finally host people and give back to society as they say in liberal circles.
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