View From the Hammock brought to you by Purple Frog

My marriage started with moving Russian and American households into one small apartment. The moving company was unusually reckless, and it was surprising. I moved in Kansas City at least three times before and never saw workers as rude and as negligent, no less than Russian gruzchiki – men who load and unload – whose manners and culture are replaced with muscles. I would swear that they were Russians if not for their Midwestern accents. The three strong men had not secured our furniture in the truck; neither had they put any padding between cabinets, sofas, and boxes. I would not care for anything, but the view of the broken mirror in my china cabinet was the last straw. “They broke the mirror! Honey, did you see it?! This is a terrible sign in Russia! We are doomed!” My new husband laughed, “We Americans don’t believe in superstitions !” “You might not believe in anything, but this company will pay for damages!”  “Honey, the contract clearly say...

     Cats do not like me. I am sure this is because they somehow know that I like dogs more. I tried several time to bring cats home when I was a girl to prove it wrong, but every time it was a fiasco: the cats either ran away, or even tried to commit suicide.