I once tried to call a master from the mountain canal just to clamp the counter.



I recruit them. I am listened to and they say "on matters of clamping of the meters you need to call a special phone, it is just about such matters that we have." They dictate him.

I think, ah, it is great. A separate number under their counters. I call this number. And I come from there with an expression in the style of "pets, dogs" and they say "the challenge of the master ONLY on a written (handwritten) statement submitted to the reception."



Do you understand, dear Pickup? They have a special number with a specially trained hamstring aunt who specifically takes the phone to send you to the reception room for paper.



In short, I put everything I thought out to them on the mail. It facilitated. If you are fooled and fooled in any office, do the same. Help will not help, but it will be easier for the soul.



“Hello, dear city of Smolensk. I am writing to you from the distant future, the 21st century, 2019. I don't know if you already have the Victorian era or you are still suffering in the dark ages of the Middle Ages, but I have light news for you: in our time, the application for a master's call all companies make by phone - this is such a magical thing that allows people to communicate at a distance. Very good truth?

I know that you still need to appear to each hologram personally and write a handwriting by applying your literacy, but now that you have great knowledge of the technologies of the future, you can take advantage of them and change your work. Per in ten or even five years the suffering will not be burdened with the duty to reach your threshold.

You are truly a Smolyan.”

The director came from the court (the application filed), tells and laughs. There now everyone in the "one window" is accepted, because of which everyone waiting for their turn is aware of the reasons for the appeal of other visitors. It says, one lady came to apply for the recovery of alimony from the child's baptismal father. Argument: “Well, he is a father, even though he is a baptist! Let him pay! No, let him be baptized, but the Father!”

Rejected, although it took her a long time to explain why not.

Xxx: I would like to ask if you regret it. But today I listen to songs from the 2000s. Splin, Bi-2 and I cried. It was a youth that was careless and still alive. When you are in the tent under the rainy rain waiting for the performance of your group and you are not cold, because you are not alone and the tent is not yours, but the girl you met here and you are warm together, you enjoy each other, and then you run to listen to the world that will no longer hear your young funny voices, and then you promise each other to write in the ICQ, and then you go on the train home, and then your friend gets a knife, incompatible with life, then the film quickly rolls around and here you are old, sitting by the window, and you seem to have achieved all that your wife and wanted to sleep next to you and your children put in, you have money in the bull, and you smoke and want there back to the rock festival, in the arms of that girl whose face you no longer remember and who you will not know.

A Buddha walked with his many disciples through the same village. Several men, his opponents, gathered together and began to insult the Buddha in a fierce and evil way. He listened very quietly. And because of that calm they became somewhat uncomfortable. There was an uncomfortable feeling: they insult the person, and he listened to their words, like music. Something is wrong here. One of them said to the Buddha:

What is the matter? Do you not understand what we are saying?

"It is with understanding that such a deep silence is possible," replied the Buddha, "If you came to me ten years ago, I would have rushed to you. There was no understanding. Now I understand. Because of your stupidity, I can’t punish myself. It is up to you to decide whether to offend me or not, but to accept your offenses or not – that is my freedom. You cannot impose them on me. I just reject them; they are not worth it. You can take them for yourself.

Now my students will leave you.

People just pretend they need an interlocutor. They really need an audience.

On the weekend, we went away from home. In the morning, a call from a neighbor: guard, you are flooding us, immediately turn off the water. Abzaz, no one at home, we are all in the country and 2 hours drive to the city. I panicked to collect things and drive home and here my 8-year-old daughter asks: daddy, and who called, I say that Masha called from the 11th floor (so she is recorded in my phone) and I need to go home urgently from the flood to save. I stopped the question of the child; Dad, can we pour the 11th floor, we live on the 10th floor? The curtain.

Re-called Mashe, it turned out that she called everyone with a neighbor's note, not knowing who was lower, who was higher.

Judging by the advertising of new amendments, we have lived for 30 years under the Pidor constitution in a blue country.

Think about how little a person needs for moral satisfaction, for recognition, for a good mood. In my case, I missed my partner. I was happy to communicate with her, a spectacular girl, smart, fun, ideal would say many. We talked to her for a long time, more than a year, work, all business before she began to show interest in me. But work is work, we communicated more with it than I did with my regular girlfriend, with whom I lived for almost five years.

Five years was a long time, and I felt like I started to get tired and tired for a long time, everyday life was like that. There I did not wash the dishes, there I did not clean my socks, the fifth tenth negative accumulated, from her side, from mine and sometimes gave way to scandals, mostly from my side. I felt that I was tired and tired very much, the schedule work, the house oppressed. By the way, my girlfriend was working at home and it was even harder for her than it was for me to go to work every day. Well, she could not just sit down and work, she will see my socks on the floor, immediately went to remove it, the plate was not washed, go here, the feather and the sponge is waiting for you. There is something to go crazy about.

And I have a nymph here at work, who laughs at my jokes, discusses any issues with me, is not angry at nothing, and is also free, well, I and the stream.

Why did I call the post “One Kiss,” you ask? Yes, because, in essence, it is one movement, a manifestation of emotions, a kiss it is friendly, romantic, loving, but it can ruin the relationships that we have built for years. In my case, he was outspoken.

One day, we gathered for a corporate, most likely my girlfriend had already guessed that I already had someone else or clinging, but she could not prove it. I’ve never passworded the phone or VC and I’m not a big fan of messaging to find out the relationship.

And here at the corporation, this girl and I got drunk and she made it clear to me that everything is going to happen now, let’s go and I’ll be yours, kiss me and let’s go. Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, I remembered my girlfriend’s eyes and realized that I couldn’t just take five years of my life. As if it didn’t sound pathetic, I stopped kissing, apologized and left. I couldn’t destroy everything that we just built together for years. I apologized and left.

After, I sat down on the bench for a long time drinking beer, with my friend’s favorite flowers. I was ashamed, I realized everything, I remembered that I banally didn't even embrace her when I came from work, that I was angry at the stuff because of the same socks, well what it is worth removing them, if you think so, that I went with friends to squeeze, and she was waiting for me always, in any condition, in general, I remembered everything and realized that I wasn't such a gold.

Now my girlfriend, I have a wife and I tell her every day that I love her.

And I remember that kiss, as he scratched me and almost ruined everything.

It was long ago. At that time I worked as a master in the installation of plastic windows. And little by little, with a paycheck, I put in my three-room apartment one window a month. Then there was a boom on these windows, people installed these beautiful white windows in exchange for the forever blowing winter, wooden. I lived in Kazakhstan. In a small town in the Karaganda region. On the outskirts in the new district according to the standards of the rest of the city. Behind the window was already a forest strip and an endless steppe.

On another usual day waking up in the morning, I felt a rolling nausea and a sluggish feeling. I immediately realized that working with such a tone would be tough. He took his button Siemens and picked Paške. Paška was also a master of installation, and with understanding agreed to replace me, giving me a little sick at home.

I took my computer and ran into the kitchen, decided to make a toast with tea. He loved to smell the oil on the bread baked in the toaster, which melted and gave the toast an excellent taste. After dropping the bread into the toaster and putting the tea on the plate, he broke and sat down at the computer.

After 15 minutes, I heard a fire from a distance. He quickly broke into the kitchen, and sheaam... Nothing is visible and smells badly of burned bread under the sounds of boiling water in the teaker. Having sown on the floor according to all the laws of physics, understanding that the floor smoke is less and you can breathe more freely, he broke through the socket and turned off the toaster from power. (I completely forgot that a couple of days ago the toaster apparently broke and stopped automatically after the specified time to turn off, raising the mechanism with the pancakes up)

The window in the kitchen I have not yet changed to plastic, on the street minus 30, on the window ice even from the side of the apartment. I tried to open it for two minutes, it finally succeeded and the fork opened. I immediately sat down again closer to the floor, breathing a lot of fire and swing to the plate, turning off the tea.

I hear, straight like it seems, in the distance, a scream of “help.” I thought, an-no, again a whispering voice “help.” I quickly stood up and looked out the window, and there through the butterfly I saw two heads rolling from below and shouting for help.

Maybe a week ago, under my window, the tractor dug up a large pit, made heating pipes...well how did they do, knocked the wooden cliffs into the hole of the pipes and left without buriing the pit (how often it happened to us in those years) Naturally it filled with water and after the frost, naturally covered with ice. And naturally, a couple of friends of 7 or 8 years, walking around the house, decided to test the ice for strength, not knowing the consequences.

In general, seeing these little boys, I no longer remember what happened, in a moment I was barefoot in home shirts and a jacket near the pit, the winter children's clothes absorbed the water and it was very difficult to get them. But I got them, they are standing roaring in two throats, and I am on them like roaring, say, quickly run home. They ran away crying.

I went home and fell on day 3 with a fever. The father of one of the boys came to me, in a police uniform, saying that he did not even know how to thank for the saved life of his son. But I turned away, saying that everyone in my place would have done so.

So I then analyzed the situation and realized that if I did not get sick, I would go to work, I would not help the children, and if the toaster was right, I would not open the window and hear them.

I think everything in our world has its purpose, even the nameless stone behind a lonely hill, the toaster, and of course every person.



by PS. Children who helped in that difficult moment, if you read, then good for you and health.