My grandmother had a pearl. At night he lived on a three-litre bench, shob form not to lose :P
And here I hear a very pleasant cat's cheerleading, tarrachit like a tractor, and it feels unrealistic to him. I look behind the curtain, and there on the window...happy until impossible cat, like the harp plays, and actually destroys the grandmother’s pearl :shock: :shock: :shock:
In order not to spoil my relationship with my grandmother, I quietly removed my hair from the window, pressed the cat on the pop and went to bed. When I went out to work in the morning, and my grandmother swam out of the darkness of the bedroom in a pearl...I roasted so that the neighbors couldn’t stand and came to us to see if everything was okay.