My language is my enemy. A neighbor came (to say - cute), brought a laptop and a dropped bullet. We went to the kitchen, at the same time disassembled a note for complete prevention. So that the screws did not spontaneously twist, he planted them on a nail lacquer, which safely sprinkled with his wife's trum. Noot assembled, started, programmatically cleaned. The joyful neighbor, promising a bowl of the best coffee, fled from the horizon into the location of the part.
The wife came.
What does my nail lacquer do in the kitchen?
– Dick, that’s the neighbor’s notch.
Did it?
and Oga.
Why the lac?
Bolt painted for her.
(the facelift)