Summary
Michal Viewegh: Out of the game
When a man is twenty years old, living with two peers can be quite ok, but when he is forty one, it is no longer a joke. Occasionally, in the middle of the night, you are woken up by the onset of a hangover and thirst, so you get up and start drinking chlorinated water from the tap. You know that any attempt to find your beer or mineral water in the fridge is completely unnecessary. You are too lazy to look for slippers in the dark, and under your bare feet, as a realization of your dark forebodings, you feel hardened breadcrumbs, chips with paprika, Skippy's cut nails, crushed olives from a garlic solution and God knows what else. The next moment you slip on the scattered Eurotel brochures. Skippy buys a new mobile phone three times a year, changes the chosen tariff every month and constantly counts free minutes, even though he doesn't really have anyone to call. Just like me - we both have free minutes to throw away. The snoring of both roommates can be heard from Unit and Troika, and a white paper with the last futile attempt at a monthly cleaning schedule sticks out of the darkness from the cork board on the wall in the hall. You quietly open the bathroom door, feel the rubber vagina that Skip-py installed on the wall instead of a switch one rainy weekend two years ago, close your eyes and turn on the light. ....
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