That morning started shit. Right in the literal sense. In the evening, my cat got a bunch. Something on the table. More precisely - on a bunch of papers, placing and noting almost every one. Increasing the aesthetic blow also financial. Because it was the signed mortgage documents that I was going to bring to the bank that day. With the originals of different letters, collecting which was hemorrhoidal. The Supa Supa!

The grey creature herself slept on the couch, not waking up from my nuts, and smiling at something in a dream. It was only surprising how the 20-year-old animal, which was hard to walk, was able to jump to the table.

It took more than a week to re-collect. During this time, the rate suddenly dropped almost half, and the new mortgage became significantly lower.

Soon the cat died. In the dream, on the same couch. I was crying.