One of my friends went to rest in the south. No travel and arrangements. She arrived and, as is known, a taxi driver from the station took her to a private house, where she took out the room. She changed her shorts and t-shirt, took some money and went for a walk. I walked and bought a peanut on the way back.

There was only one problem: she forgot where she stopped. So until the morning and went with the arbuz.

In the morning, the insight came and she went to the station, where she found the same driver, who took her back to a familiar house. This would have been the end of the story if it had not been the hostess, who, after hearing her story about the misfortunes, stated that she had watched the whole evening as she walked along the house with watermelon.