I’ve now had two visits “from the housing authority.” Both times it was middle-aged dames who visited me. The first one was wearing a headscarf, while the one today had a short haircut. The most amazing thing is that they were looking for an apartment with the same number as mine, but in the building next door. But they couldn’t find it, so they came to my apartment.
This is a rough recreation of today’s conversation:
— I need Maxim Sokolov . . .
— Meep! Someone came here asking for him two days ago. Like I said then, you have the wrong building.
— Yes, I know . . . But just in case . . .
— “Just in case” what?
— Well, just in case you’re hiding him under the sofa.
— He lives in another building! I don’t even know him.
— But I can’t find the apartment.
— You do realize that even if you come here ten times, the building number won’t change, and he won’t be here.
— But they send me looking for him so I can serve him a [mobilization] summons.
— Then tell them to buzz off!
She hesitates at the door.
— But there’s another one I can’t find.
And she shows me another summons.
— But there’s a different building number written here, too!
— Yes! But I can’t find it. In the building next door, the numbering starts with apartment no. 23, but here it says apartment no. 1 and apartment no. 3.
— What can I do? Should I write to you that he is not at this address because it’s a different address?
She sighs bitterly and stalks off.
Maxim Sokolov and Comrade Branov (whoever you are) — run, hide under the sofa, don’t live at your official addresses, save yourselves!
Source: Friends-only post on Facebook by a trusted source and occasional contributor to this website, identified here as “VA” for future reference. Photo of the odious Russian nationalist journalist Maxim Sokolov (who is the first Maxim Sokolov who pops up when you Google the name in Russian) courtesy of the equally odious RT. Translated by the Russian Reader
The Russian Reader 