One of my friends went to rest in the south. No travel and arrangements. She arrived and, as is known, a taxi driver from the station took her to a private house, where she took out the room. She changed her shorts and t-shirt, took some money and went for a walk. I walked and bought a peanut on the way back.

There was only one problem: she forgot where she stopped. So until the morning and went with the arbuz.

In the morning, the insight came and she went to the station, where she found the same driver, who took her back to a familiar house. This would have been the end of the story if it had not been the hostess, who, after hearing her story about the misfortunes, stated that she had watched the whole evening as she walked along the house with watermelon.

Sitting at home in quarantine reminded me of school years. One of my classmates had the opportunity to buy Harry Potter books. A new one came out and he ordered it. Fortunately, there were few people in my class who liked reading, there was almost no line for his books. The guy who ordered loved to read, and I just read! I loved to read! The book is titled “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”. This is the fatest one. And I managed to persuade him to give it to me first, because I read quickly. Here it is with me! Time is given 2 days! What to do?! to

Heat the heat and don’t go to school. I did so. I did this very rarely, so my mom quickly gave up and left me alone at home.

And here you lie on the bed, behind the window the frost and the sun (which shines from the window straight to the pages), a wonderful day. Everyone at school. There were no mobile phones, nobody bothered. You can read your favorite book all day.

The next morning I had to repeat with the thermometer and I was back home alone. This is the second day of happiness!! to

By the evening of the second day, I read this work, mentally said goodbye to my favorite heroes for a long time, and in the morning I went to school.

I remembered yesterday how it was (I haven’t read anything new for a long time, just a long time ago). Lie on the couch, jumped Stephen King's novel from those I haven't read yet and spent a happy day, like in the old good ones. They are in quarantine.

I am probably five years old. Kindergarten is quiet.

The girl, which I liked so much in the kindergarten, persuades me to show her my cabbage. I reject and feel ashamed.

Let’s go to the bathroom and I’ll show you first, and then you show me.

I persuaded. We looked at each other and separated.

I went to bed and she turned out to complain to the teacher that I had forced her to take off her trousers in the toilet.

Not only did the teacher offend me, she also told her parents. So I got the second portion of the lily already at home.

That’s how, at such a young age, I met the deceitfulness of girls.

I always remember my teacher from kindergarten, although I am 30. She was young, very beautiful, kind. I felt special feelings. Maybe I guessed that everything was not smooth in the family, and the child did not get enough love. It was called “cat”. A week ago I stood at a stop and saw a woman next to me. She is so similar to her! My memories come up, I stand, I watch her, I smile like an idiot. She noticed, looking at me for a long time. I think Pepe. She thinks I’m a cookie. And suddenly, “Cat, are you?”

To boast of good is not wise, and kindness is not given to everyone.

When I was 5, and my brother was 3, my mom met a man, divorced my father and left, leaving us for dad. She lived with this man for 4 years, gave birth to a son and she chose a new love again. With the third man she lived for 7 years, gave birth to two children and op - on the horizon again a new knight. She left her husband and children and went to him. And now she is under 70, we are 9 abandoned children, and she wants a warm relationship like nothing else. But the fathers she chose for us good - none of their children abandoned, all grew up, learned and friends of families. Good bye mom.

As electricists say, isolation is better than grounding.

It was only when we began to announce that we needed to wear masks and gloves, and the number of patients was counted in units, that I ran into the elevator of my grandmother’s house. In the elevator was a 25-year-old woman and a 25-year-old boy, both without a mask. I asked for my floor and put on a mask. This caused me to be interested by the woman, she decided to beat me, then I, I, a woman:

Look at how he worries about his life. She turned to the guy.

But it was her mistake!

“I’m not worried for myself, but for you,” I said and coughed a little.

Has something been infected?

I don’t know, I just arrived today. They were told to walk in a mask everywhere, suddenly infected.

And here is my floor, I jumped out) such big eyes I had not seen for a long time, it seems these two did not breathe to their floors.

I did wrong, but I couldn’t hold myself back.

And have you noticed how easily and quickly you were deprived of basic constitutional rights without any vote?

Pre-Dose

Vika, the daughter of my Peter's friend, once went to a nightclub and, of course, got into history.

It all started with the fact that Vika washed her hands in the bathroom, laid down the riddle next to the dishwasher and, being slightly under the steam, just forgot it there.

After a minute, it was enough, I ran, and Ridicula, of course, was frozen.

Poor Vika even sprayed all the garbage in the toilet with a wooden sushi stick, and suddenly the thief even the passport, or the right dropped. and nothing. I found nothing. I walked through the hall, suddenly there was what was going on. Nothing but garbage. And an hour after the disappearance, when Vika was already asking the wardrobe to give her a coat without a number, suddenly the armoured music smelt and the DJ announced:

Attention to! Victoria Naumova, who lost her bag, approach the DJ.

The music blurred again.
Happy Vic, headed to the DJ and pointed to a very angry girl.
The girl took Vic’s hand and pulled her into a remote corner where it was a little quieter.
Immediately on the floor in the embryonic position suffered a boy. From the grimas on his face, it was visible that he was suffering very much.
The girl stretched to Victoria her riddle and cried in her ear:
Check it faster. All in place?
Wika began to remove the content:
Passport, thank goodness! The Right! Ura! The bank card. The EU! Oh, the room in the closet and even in the wallet thousands of rubles remained. Thank you very much, everything is in place. I thought I had picked up a bitch and ended up. thank you. And that...
The girl interrupted her:
“Don’t make me a fool, we both know it’s not all that’s in the bag. Service for service. I returned you the bag with your barrel and even money, and you quickly tell me – what were your wheels there?

There were no wheels, no wheels.

Do not make me a fool. Three tablets, quite large, are packed in separate pink bags without any inscriptions. Well? Think more sharply.

I don’t have any pills, I swear, I’m not at all about that. You confused something.

In short, I count to three. If anything, he will retaliate, will say that he did not know, and you will sit for storage and dissemination (at the same time, the angry girl pointed to a man who was tormented).

My boyfriend just looked into your bag, there were three pills. Well remember it. He just wanted to try it, thought it was vitamins. He swallowed one, did not swallow, then the second and third. and here. He is dying. Tell me, shit, what were these wheels and what to save them from? I call it “rust.” We do not need it, neither you nor me.

- Girl, you are confusing, I had no pills in my bag at all.
Okay, then it will be worse. You will tell the rubbish. Stay there, I call an ambulance.
The girl got the phone, and Vika remembered something and pulled out of the back pocket of the jeans a white pill packed in a pink cellophane:
Could that be the pills?
Yes, they are they! What stupidity is this?
It’s not really stupid, it’s pressed towels. Thank you again, all the good and take care of your boyfriend.

In connection with the coronavirus epidemic, the new international airport and subway in Omsk closed. Well, how they closed... Predicting for many years such a situation – they didn’t even open...

I was still small. I watched with my cousin, even younger than me, the cartoon "Snow Queen". At the end, when the Queen was shown a big plan, I cried out:

Oh, how beautiful she must be!

The sister objected:

But is evil.

I asked her:

What would you choose: to be beautiful but evil, or to be ugly but good?

She answered:

and beautiful. I will fix it later.



She was 5 years old at the time.)

How I lived in a time of historical events!

From the chat: "My husband was enrolled in the coronavirus reserve group. I, of course, am proud of Vitka and all that, but if you don’t want to be treated by an orthopedist for pneumonia – stay home!”

Every night after watching the news, I must turn on a horror movie to somehow calm down.

More than two hundred years ago, the English physician D. Hill was elected to the Royal Scientific Society. After a while, he sent a report to this society with the following content: "One of the sailors on the ship on which I worked as a ship doctor had a broken leg. I collected all the fragments, placed them properly and poured resin and sludge water obtained when the resin was exhausted. Soon the fragments joined together, and the sailor was able to walk as if nothing had happened. In ancient times, the Royal Society spoke a lot about the healing properties of sludge water and dew. The message of Dr. D. Hill caused great interest and was read at one of the scientific sessions. A few days later, D. Hill sent a further message to the society:

“In my report, I forgot to mention that the sailors’ leg was wooden.”

Epidemics and panic are best carried out at home.

In 1989 I had to travel from Moscow to Helsinki. One of my neighbors was a Swede, who, judging by his stories, visited almost the entire Soviet Union and visited almost all the Union republics. We talked, and I asked the most original question: "What do you like the most in our country?"

“Russian hospitality,” my interlocutor replied without thinking.

How is? “I cried out,” you said, having been to the Caucasus several times. The people of the Caucasus are famous for their traditional hospitality.

If you are invited to a house in the Caucasus, the table will be covered with the richest: the freshest fruits and vegetables, the finest meat, the unimaginable variety of dishes. The owner will get his best wine and will try his best to soothe the guest. During the evening, the host or one of his guests will say several times: “Have you paid attention to our Caucasian hospitality? This is our centuries-old tradition.”

If you are invited to a Russian family, everything will be much more modest. The observing guest will notice, however, that the hosts are somewhat confused that they cannot offer the guest more than they have. And if they are thankful for their hospitality, they will be truly surprised and someone will say, “Yes, God is with you. Go to the Caucasus, this is where real hospitality is.”

“It turns out,” my neighbor continued, “that Caucasian hospitality comes from tradition, and Russian hospitality comes from soul. It is, of course, wonderful when the people keep good traditions, but I like the Russian version somehow more, my casual companion concluded his reasoning.

Have you seen Putin’s response?
In whom?! to

In 1989 I had to travel from Moscow to Helsinki. One of my neighbors was a Swede, who, judging by his stories, visited almost the entire Soviet Union and visited almost all the Union republics. We talked, and I asked the most original question: "What do you like the most in our country?"



“Russian hospitality,” my interlocutor replied without thinking.



How is? “I cried out,” you said, having been to the Caucasus several times. The people of the Caucasus are famous for their traditional hospitality.



If you are invited to a house in the Caucasus, the table will be covered with the richest: the freshest fruits and vegetables, the finest meat, the unimaginable variety of dishes. The owner will get his best wine and will try his best to soothe the guest. During the evening, the host or one of his guests will say several times: “Have you paid attention to our Caucasian hospitality? This is our centuries-old tradition.”



If you are invited to a Russian family, everything will be much more modest. The observing guest will notice, however, that the hosts are somewhat confused that they cannot offer the guest more than they have. And if they are thankful for their hospitality, they will be truly surprised and someone will say, “Yes, God is with you. Go to the Caucasus, this is where real hospitality is.”



“It turns out,” my neighbor continued, “that Caucasian hospitality comes from tradition, and Russian hospitality comes from soul. It is, of course, wonderful when the people keep good traditions, but I like the Russian version somehow more, my casual companion concluded his reasoning.