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.

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

The world is so scared of the coronavirus that I saw people vaccinate themselves in my entrance.

yyy: I saw how two guys from a plastic bottle with a foil inhaler built. They are treated as they can.

In the morning, I think my kids are NPS. While you look at them, they move, dress, gather to school or kindergarten. But it is worth to get out of the room as they fade and all their activity stops.

My lessons are like that. You sit with him and do everything in half an hour. You leave, in half an hour, all on the same task. Well understandably distracting, I used to play, painted all kinds of warheads on the sheet. I decided to follow, I went, I looked into the room, and he was just sitting and looking into the wall. Type of Slip regime. A terrible PDC.

My 70-year-old aunt is a very interesting person. She loves to rush until late, but every day she wakes up at 7 a.m. to... open the clothes! (He lives in the private sector. Then go to sleep again about 12.

Once she came to my mother’s birthday (sister’s) and was back home at seven o’clock. Mom said to sit down again, we haven’t seen each other for a long time, even if we’ll talk. Unfortunately, I can’t, I need to close. I no longer endured this universe mystery with stakes, I ask why? ? to ? to

“Well,” said the aunt, “if I come late and close the stall late, the neighbors will say, ‘I’m going somewhere. And if I don’t open it in the morning, it’s going to be late, Sonja.

Well and what? ? to ? to I was honestly surprised. Do you know what your neighbors will say?

Well, no, it will still be a bad thought, aunt breathing.

Do you talk to them because they care about you? I still don’t understand.

Not...

That is how my aunt lives. He loves to visit, but can’t afford to sit down. She likes to sleep long, but must get up early.

And all because “what will the neighbors say? ? to ? “

There is a man in our office, let’s say, Igor Viktorovich. He is well for forty, but his soul is young. The spirit of adventure is alive and beats the key.

At one of the sidelines, when everyone had already drank a little and had conversations, jokes, stories.

Igor Viktorovich suddenly stood over the table. Attracted the attention. And he said, “Friends, let’s smoke the same thing! I have it!”

No one would mind, but Igor Viktorovich, where did he come from?

- And I was cooked, he said cuddly.

Who is?

The children smoked in the garage. I was ashamed and took it.

I did not know my father from birth. My question is, “Where is he? “My mother replied that he died in the war (I was born in 1996, so either Chechnya or Croatia).

I didn’t believe it and asked my grandmother the same question. Obviously, her improvisation was not prepared in advance, and the grandmother replied, “it was eaten by cats.” When I told her my mom’s version, she said without thinking for a second, “In the war and they ate.”

Life is terribly unfair: who is the crown, who is the virus.

The boy got out of the bus, looked around, saw the urn, and threw a ticket into it. Ticket is fake. The guy picked up four times, kicked, swallowed. He pulled the gum out of his mouth, weighed the ticket and still threw it into the urn.
A few minutes later, I saw another guy take out a bag of baked meat from Bush and give it to a bomja standing nearby. He was very grateful and grateful to him. Then he grabbed and got a coin of 10 rubles: Please, give it to the bartenders.

This is Peter, little boy.

Bright thoughts and a bright morning. Be happy, or whatever you want.

Russia will send Vladimir Soloviev to Italy to tell them that they are well.

Recently, my mother and I remembered my childhood. I remembered such a story.



I was eight years old in the yard in the early 2000s. I did not have friends, the television was mostly hard Brazilian series on +100500 series, the computer was 1 for the whole village and stood in the office with the head of administration. There were only books left of entertainment, and we had enough of them at home.



And I encountered somehow in one of the encyclopedias for information about Jeanne D. Arc. Here Fig knows why she caught me so fast, but I started looking for information everywhere (I didn’t know about the existence of the great Internet at the time). Soon I became a small speaker in this part of French history.



Time passed, my kind eldest brother wrote a history book. And, o miracle, the theme is this Orléans Virgin. My star hour came, I took the posture of Radzinsky and began to read a lecture. Particular attention was paid to the point about the voices of the saints that Jeanne heard. I listed the entire list.



So my mother heard me. On Saturday, when all the relatives went to the bathroom, a family council was gathered. I was called into the room and asked to voice the voices once again. I, a simple soul, calmly said. I was listened and driven out of the room. A few days later, a strange uncle came home to us and told me that imaginary friends are not bad, but we have to fight it. Well, I listened to this, type of me why this information. It turned out that I was absolutely contactless and did not want to share my experiences. In short, this uncle disappeared as unexpectedly as he appeared.



And then, many years later, I decided to ask my mother the question: what kind of frog was it? Because nobody explained to me what was happening at all. As it turned out, in those distant times my whole precious family decided that in this way I decided to tell about what I hear voices in my head. After all, the eight-year-old can’t know who Jeanne D. Arc is. ! to L is logical.

xxx: Once tried to use the city mobile, t.k. You can order a taxi at a certain time. I had to go to the station at 5 in the morning. I ordered from the evening, I wake up in the morning and see that the order is already processed and the money is written off the card.

YYYYYYYYYYYY Woke up at the station?

The work of a psychologist. A teenager wrote, asked if it was possible to enroll his mother for a consultation. I ask, does my mother know that she is being recorded? He replies, "No, she just wrote me to the dentist without permission, and I decided to write her to a psychologist. I have always dreamed of Parapham.

If a person does not laugh with everyone, it does not mean that he does not understand what is happening. He was the first to guess the consequences.