"Trying to swipe your finger across the surface.

The need to change power from time to time, as for a long time and not by me, is seen as a hygienic nature: in order to avoid intoxication, we must get rid of the remnants of digested, drain water, wash hands ... Nothing personal: it is necessary!.

And in the room where you live, it is necessary to ventilate and do the wet cleaning from time to time ... Soon all this will make stay in the apartment unimaginable - not for everyone, of course, but for someone one that is the most sensitive to hygiene standards. And one day this one will go away, even at the cost of losing living space ... Without him, of course, it will become noticeably easier, because he will have time to bore the healthy majority with his cries about the need to open a window and do a wet cleaning. After all, he will even try to break through to the tap with water at last, but they will twist it on the way and put it in pedagogical purposes, into the dustiest corner - purely so that it would be easier for him to get out then.

The rest will gradually get used to the mud, especially since newly-born people will not even guess that it is possible to open a window, and the responsible moppers and tenants will prudently break and clean the mop and throw it out so that this European whim does not distract the tenants from the constantly working TV - also covered with dust, together with those who are there, inside, singing and dancing with them since standing on the river Ugra.

Grandchildren will sculpt from the dirt toys and blow your nose in the linoleum (for the parquet floor, which was once on the site of this linoleum, has long been sold by unidentified persons, and dick with it, with parquet, you can blow your nose into the wall).

From the totality of odors one day a common one will be built-and for lack of personal responsibility this smell will suddenly suit everyone, and specially hired poets will call it the air of the Motherland.

And one day - when suddenly the sapiens suddenly appeared in the middle of this cubature with a good mate, and begins to call the Mother of God with international control and tear at itself the coalesced hair, - to the disturbed tenants a senior, reliably crouched person with a dust diploma bought from dirty hands.

And it turns out that this is all that has long surrounded them from all sides - long time no longer dust and dirt, but - the cultural layer! And it can not be scraped off in any case, because this will lead to the loss of identity.

And it is necessary, on this occasion, to lock on to a new turn of the key and lock the latch to the very Poland, for those who do not feed on the outside, but let us hurt us with wet cleaning!.

Thank God, we still have the strength to push the latch; priorities are strong, the needs are small, and morality, until washed, grew so large that it clings to the furniture. Push it!.

It's not a joke, after all.. Residents still die, but for our identity we are responsible for our history! Without blinking, looking at us from the depths of the apartment and not buried in time ghouls ... Breathe deeply, "- summed up the satirist.