Читать книгу Stories from Lyubavino. Chronicle of an extraordinary Incident - - Страница 3

All this debacle struck with impeccably poor timing – on a Friday. And Friday, as everyone knows, is not merely a day of the week, but a sacred boundary between the heroic labors of the workweek and lawful idleness. This was especially true given that the weekend was looming, and half of the management was already blissfully basking on their vacation shores.

Consequently, no one was in any particular hurry to repair the damages. Everyone understood that the problem would be tackled in earnest only on Monday. Unless, of course, fortune smiled, and someone was given a little ‘motivational push’ to speed things up, in which case, perhaps, a bit earlier.

The people were not spoiled; they could endure a little hardship – it was summer, warm, and for the most part, light outside… these weren’t the nineties, after all. If anything, they’d manage somehow. And so, while there was a fair bit of grumbling, the people, having no means to influence the course of events, were forced to return to their daily routines, dealing with the lack of electricity, gas, and water as problems cropped up for each household.

Some had generators, purchased for their business or for the house, you know, just in case. Others still had wood-burning stoves in their homes. Some, for a rainy day, had stocked up on portable gas camping stoves. And in the villages, almost everyone had a banya and a well in their yard. So, they improvised as best they could.

The whole affair might have passed smoothly and without incident had we been, say, somewhere over there – in the civilized Western countries, where the local folk, with an air of refined resignation, patiently await the restoration of such strategic resources as light, gas, and water. But this all happened in the vast expanses of our God-preserved Mother Russia. In its very heartland. Where dwells a people of a most restless nature, blessed with that legendary restlessness that simply won’t give their hands, feet, or backsides (and most likely all of the above) a moment’s peace!

That enigmatic, unquiet Russian soul, forever thirsting for the unknown, tirelessly striving to break free from the shackles of stability and tranquility, found in this unprecedented collapse the most fertile soil for its unique self-expression. As a result, the local populace saw their already formidable imagination grow tenfold. And with it awoke an insatiable craving for ingenious inventiveness. And all this only served to exacerbate the locals’ peculiar propensity for truly farcical adventures.

To put it bluntly, every single thing that can get aggravated in a Russian in such a situation, did. And these lovely, simple, kind-hearted folks started getting into some fantastically bizarre mischief! Each as best they knew how! A performance dictated by their wits, their strength, and the enigmatic Russian soul residing within each of them…