The 101st Dalmatian of my 47th year

I woke up to the alarm at 9:30. Masha was not home — she had gone to the public services center to drop off some documents. I cleaned up the kitchen, which was in its usual evening mess, and made breakfast: hash browns and soft-boiled eggs. Masha came back, we ate, and started getting ready for the theater. We took the subway. Today we were seeing “Baby Mammoth” at the Musical Theater — Sasha Novikov had invited us. An administrator met us and led us through a separate entrance into a separate room located inside the auditorium behind a door. There was a VIP room waiting for us with its own restroom, sofa, armchairs, tea, coffee, nuts, candy, water, and ice cream. In short, Sasha pleasantly surprised us — I had never had that kind of reception before. =) The performance was excellent, and we were sitting in the best seats in the center of the orchestra. There were many old Soviet cartoon songs slightly adapted to fit the plot. The actors often came out into the audience, constantly passed near us, shook hands, and overall it was wonderful. Leia danced a lot. During the second act she started getting fussy and acting up a little, and I even had to take her out of the hall.

After the theater I went to meet my little brother Maksik at Rechnoy Vokzal — he had asked me to help him buy his first car, a 2020 Mitsubishi Outlander. I am not sure how useful I would actually be, but helping is my sacred duty. I pictured it like this: I open the hood and say in a long, serious tone, “Uhhhh, this carburetor is no good at all, and it is not compatible with the CVT; do not even get me started on the seals, they are pressing into the leaf springs. Knock a hundred thousand off.” =)

In reality I was not useless at all. Max felt more confident with me there, and from time to time he would set down his backpack full of cash in random places and leave it unattended — so I kept an eye on it =) Youth. An expert came in and inspected the car pretty professionally, quickly, and thoroughly, finding all the issues. The overall verdict was that the car was worth the money and, if he liked it, he should buy it. The expert hinted that getting any discount was unlikely — apparently that rarely happens. The dealership handled the sale in a very unprofessional way; the managers showed zero interest — buy it or do not buy it, they did not care. When I directly asked what discount options were possible and whether winter tires were included, the manager went to “talk to the boss” and disappeared for an hour and a half while we waited in a cafe with no staff. Then he came back triumphantly and announced that, as a gift, they would let us buy used tires on rusty steel rims for only 5,000 rubles. I told him outright that what he was really offering was for us to pay to dispose of their old tires, and that it was rude. But we would be happy to take them for free. We haggled for a long time, and in the end he agreed to give the tires for free, supposedly in exchange for a good review — I had hinted during negotiations that they were not exactly making us happy, so I had no reason to leave a glowing review. The paperwork took two and a half hours; the dealership works terribly, and I cannot understand what could possibly take that long. Standard contract, standard acceptance form — just fill in the details and that is it. They clearly have no automation.

From the dealership we drove to Max’s place, with him behind the wheel of his first car. At home we were greeted by Lyonya and Galchonok. They fed me excellent solyanka soup and pilaf late at night. Max even called me a business-class ride home because my phone had died. All in all, it was a good deed. My wife was unhappy that I had left them alone for the whole day, but who could have known. This is not exactly something that happens every day.