In the house where I lived most of my life, a lonely old lady died 40 years ago. Relatives were far away and traveled for a long time - in general, the apartment was opened, and at first all the funerals were carried out by neighbors-knowns.

It is noteworthy that the apartment was a warehouse of all kinds of barracks of different degrees of antiquity and antiquity. At the same time, she was very suitable for life. The old lady slept on a iron bed with a grid that was so hollow and hollow that a bunch of all kinds of sloppy clothes were just stuffed under the mattress so that you could somehow lie down.

This is witness observation.

Then some relatives arrived. After the funeral, they began to scratch the apartment in order to somehow adapt it to life. There was no talk about repairs yet - there was so much barrel that it was necessary to start at least somehow. Even before the fact that (per at the daytime) all the neighbors involved and others offered to catch whoever liked, well within the limits.

My grandmother (according to my father’s instructions) took a small drill. I remember her.

And what was of the least value was quickly carried out for washing.

And here comes the matter of carpets. They remove the carpet from the wall - and there is the inscription on the wallpaper: "Gold in the mattress."

I know where the mattress was at the time.

Or rather, where he was no longer.

yyy: A good idea for family trolling, even if there is no gold. ;D