It was called “the art of war”.
My old friend divorced my wife. His son was already an adult, so there were no problems with the children, he just picked up his socks and left. He then had a room in the public office, left from his grandmother, closed standing, and decided to live there until everything was shaken. He comes somehow to me, weakened, condemned, and complains.
- You understand, there is only one neighbor, a woman of thirty years old, with a child - a kindergarten, a terribly shy grandmother.
- You hardly go there, you work in turn, you get to sleep and that's all.
That is the matter. She told me the first day that if I didn’t sell her room for three pennies, she’t let me live here anyway. Especially after the night is bad, the metal is full, it is impossible to fall asleep. In the afternoon, the music shakes the walls. I will kill her.
Why to kill? I live for two weeks.
A bad world is always better than a good war, so I solved this question for only 230 rubles. by 200 rub. Bank of nitro paint and 30 rubles. the chest. He and I started painting the entrance door to his room from the side of the corridor once every two days. The acetone smells so lovely, where there is Chanel. In winter, you can’t open the windows. The neighbor and the eagle, and the district called - so we do not disturb anything. Ten days later, a neighbor threw a white flag.