Morning, damn it. I’m sitting here in the bathroom on the floor and pouring peroxide on my knee. The cat, wet and frightened, looks in, but is afraid to enter. Sasha just shakes her head. Whether to feel sorry for me, scold the cat, or vice versa?
What am I?! I’m nothing! I’m not to blame!
Worth the heat. I’m not complaining, I’m glad! This is a rarity in our area, so much sun at once! Stuffiness at night, even though the windows are wide open. The cat is hot too. He saves himself by pushing the basin into the hallway. There’s a draft. Fall apart in his pelvis, and he’s good.
In the morning, as usual, I went to the shower. (No one stumbles over the basin. Well, you can also understand the cat, he’s in a fur coat!) I always turn on the water first and wait a bit. Let the very cold merge. The cat is not indifferent to this process.
