One day I drove to the south. At the break between Bataysk and Rostov I realized that I needed to sleep and rest. Winter, the night and the wind. The steep tourist shoes purchased yesterday wiped their legs in blood. Heavy backpack on his shoulders. I decide to go to Bataysk, because ten kilometers before it, and to Rostov 18.

On the outskirts of Bataysk I see an old five-story building, one of the entrances is closed to the code castle. I approach, guess the code on the deleted buttons, climb up to the upper floor. There is no light on the staircase. I sit on the stairs, my backpack under my head, trying to fall asleep.

The door knocks down and the stairs hurry. He stands up and stops in front of me. “Why are you lying here, right?” I answer that I am driving by car, tired, I need to sleep a couple of hours. “You can’t sleep here! Here people walk, any woman will go, will stumble at you in the darkness, will be scared!” I decide not to argue, I am going to leave. “Where have you gathered? Come to my house!“”

I enter the apartment. In the hall there is a woman and two young children (a boy and a girl aged five to seven). The woman does not ask a single question. I dress up and go to the shower. I get a clean towel. Then they sit at the table and we and the Armenian eat a tight dinner, drink a bunch of vodka. While we were eating, the woman laid me on the floor. I lay down, awakened by the alarm: the master's time to work. They quietly got up, ate breakfast, went out. Five minutes went together, he told me that he had a vegetable cane. Then I said goodbye and went back to the road. Soon he was already sitting in a cozy fur and drove to the sea. This is the Caucasian hospitality.

Literally a couple of minutes ago, I was called from an unknown number, I picked up the phone and usually spoke.

(I am I; C is the interlocutor)

I – Listen

C - Somebody there Rinat, can I tell you about our company?

I – Listen

I can tell you, can I?

I am listening, right?

Talk about the company, right?

I listen, I listen

Thirty seconds of silence.

After the interlocutor dropped the phone.

I don’t know what it was, probably some sort of divorce; I didn’t say “yes” just by chance...

I am sitting at work, a call from the Russian Post, a small package came to your name. On my question: one or several, the operator said that he would call everyone. I was called 8 times in 20 minutes.

It is optimization!

My parents live on the third floor. On the 1st floor below is the bank. The first and second floors are a meter wider than the others. Under the balcony of my parents is the shifter roof of the balcony of the 2nd floor.

Summer night, heat, the balcony door is open, only the frame with mosquito grid is closed. The parents are sleeping. Suddenly the father wakes up and sees a man stealing from the balcony through the room. The father waited for the man to go out into the hallway, took the scissors from the table, quietly followed the man into the hallway (the man has already gone to the entrance door and is trying to open it) and quickly closed the room door until the mother woke up.

The man turns around, and the father recognizes the neighbor by the staircase cage. The dialogue is whispering. The neighbor:

“Oh my, Valery, I’m sorry, I wanted to go here.

Are you fooled? ! to Why is? ? to

- Yeah, I went to the store in the evening, met the root, it all, they drank, one sat down. Then I look at two o’clock at night. He went home, and lost the keys of the tambour somewhere. I'm afraid to call: my whole night will bite me, and I'm tired. So I walked onto the bottom roof, looking at your balcony is open. I think the stitch quietly through your apartment into the tambour, you will not wake up. Sorry if you...

That same summer, parents finally enclosed the balcony.

It was in 2003. I was 12 years old.

The May holidays in the working Ural town were always celebrated with bitterness and these were no exception. My father invited me to go with him and his chickens on a spring fishing trip to the Pacific Bay of a beautiful Tajik river. How could I refuse?

Taiga has just taken off its winter chains and blossomed under the hot May sun. It was very warm and good. We walked the path, the men joked, told each other something, and I went and listened.

By the way, such a company we went fishing very often and nothing predicted trouble. When we arrived, the fishing began. I was given a whip and I went to catch the oak. I will not be describing the events in the middle of the day. By the time I came to the fire, my father and the men were already in shape. I knew with my childhood brain that the way back would take a long time and told my father that it was time for us to go home. To my surprise, he agreed and we left. But not the path that came, but decided to throw the "direction".

The "direction" was long and painful. The whole taiga was swollen by the melting snow and in some places cold streams had to be forced by spring water. We managed this and went out to the edge of the forest, where apparently the Batty forces left. He said he would rest a little. He lay down on the grass, put his backpack under his head and... fell asleep!

I turned around him like a whale trying to awaken a relative. But it was all in vain. The mind is obscured by the sameon, and the head is burnt with the May sun. He slept sweet.

Since I, like any probably boy, had a fist in the ass since birth, I just couldn’t sit next to my sleeping father. I had to go home. I pulled out of the valve of my backpack a piece of berry wrapped in a pipe and scratched it with a knife: “Dad, I’ve gone home.”  I put it in his hand. Having moved a little on the spot, I still decided to go home oriented towards the river, because I knew that my house was below the river.

In May, the river naturally poured all the shores, it had to go holding to the edge of the floodwater. A couple of times in my way flooded groves arose, one of them I successfully bypassed, and the other - the largest forced in short rubber boots. Naturally, I was all dirty and dirty. At seven o’clock in the evening, I finally got home. He opened the apartment, cooked peelings and sat down to dinner.

At 8 p.m. my mother came from work and asked where my father was. I had to tell her everything from the beginning. She arrived in a light shore (sorry for the mat, but I can't describe it differently) and said that when he came, he was over. At twelve o’clock the father came, sober and in a fierce shock. When he saw me, he said, “Yes, you’re home! I’m in the garage to live” and without waiting for my mom’s rugi went into the garage. He lived there for about a week.

This is a true family folklore. We often remember and laugh. And my father is very proud that I guessed to leave a note on the barrel.

We went on a taxi on 31.12.2018 in the evening to visit, we go with our wife talking, and upon arrival to the place decided to make a taxi driver a gift. And then he turns around with the words, “Yes, thank you, I’ve already drank,” and sets us out at sunset!! to