Sergei Minayev. Media Sapiens. The story of the third term (№ 56824)

Morning is the most disgusting time of day. I hate him. Especially in the winter. I don't know where the old Pushkin could see the rays of the sun, refreshing winter frost and singing birds. It is possible that he is already in the morning began to thump, and a glass of champagne any time of the day charming. I get up to the window. "Last night you remember? The Blizzard was angry. And now look out the window." Looked. Last night was any better. More precisely, there is no difference. The street is dark, dejected people cleaning their cars, taking their children to kindergartens and schools and rushing to work. No this morning, not happy. For me, I would started the working day in Russia about twelve. Still this morning no one thinks.