Why don’t you talk about bombs? As I went from fishing with a good catch, well, and I see sitting on the tubes burning, with characteristic purple faces. I stopped, pulled out a couple of huge carps, so to speak, the prey. One of them said to me, "Dear gentlemen, the conditions of our existence do not allow us to cook food by thermal processing, and if your desire to help remains as sincere, would you not kindly replace this fish sent by Providence with a simpler product, more suitable for the given situation?" I was so upset that I remembered every word and silently extended 5,000 tenge (about 1,000 rubles). Such a product approached))) Kazakh bombs, they are such)))
The television that tells us that Europe is freezing, starving and suffocating by crime, and the television that tells us that refugees are rushing to Europe for a high standard of living and security are the same Russian television.
I went, I mean, for a little in the garden. I will leave the vacuum cleaner running in the hallway and in the room. In general, clean, but the wool from two dogs, although smooth-haired, runs out. Satisfied with her thought, she pressed a button and went. Well, though the brains were enough to close two other rooms, in one of them a carpet.
I was delighted with my vision, that how well I came up and while I am not, everything will go well, I am not long... Exactly before returning from the garden.
I felt something wrong...Yes, I just heard the key in the door...
In short, the youngest cattle of the Jack-Russell dog breed aged 10 months rushed to the courtyard carpet from the feeling of horror and dullness of being from the thundering vacuum cleaner and the absence of the housewife who will protect her if he starts to eat her.
Well, the vacuum cleaner - that is, he knows that he has to work out all his 20 thousand worth... Here he fell and tried. At first, he seemed to be trying to fuck it all. All the days in the shit, the wheels in the shit. The whole corridor and bedroom in divorces fucking from the wheels, the carpet in general just lulls from the fucking shit in it. It’s such a place that you could even have put it next to it.
But I am a mother.
In short, I first washed and scratched everything with wet wipes, then washed with powder, then water.
But! This was not the last battle. I was waiting for a deadly dust. Here was the horror. Wearing a medical mask, they are now in every house in abundance, and putting wet towels there, so that it did not smell so, I took the business. I scattered everything with a drill, scattered everything at the same time crying that I was so dusty, I had to forge all the seams with a toothbrush, this is all... I was fucking with the vacuum cleaner for an hour and a half, washed.
What I want to say, now I can do everything... In short, as clean as after this cleaning, I have not been in the apartment for a long time. And the picture of the disguised and blurred shit across the floor is still in the eyes😁😂. Fu, as I remember, I’ll be so shaken. Buy a robot vacuum cleaner, dear pickabouts, just don’t forget to turn your brain on when using it, as I did. Now I only turn on behind closed doors from dogs.
It is😂
Xxx: My son asked me to put a hoodie on my jacket. She didn’t go away, she wasn’t there at first. In the tech school, when I was in the closet, there were quarrels about what a cap should be hanged. I didn’t get all my hands. And here somehow from work I come, hang my jacket and see - the son's jacket hangs on the cuff. Do I think you have swallowed myself?!! I take his jacket in my hands, look into the room and ask, “Have you whipped the cock?” He looked confused, “Are you not?” In general, the wardrobewoman came by herself, apparently tired of reminding every time.