"We move you," Olag said, and pushed Wellvang out of the way to enter the apartment.
The eighth time this happened Olag dropped Wellvang's microwave and kicked it down the stairs.
Olag tore the bike off the banister, snapping the chain like a daisy bracelet, bent the frame into a wheel sandwich, and threw it at Wellvang's head above.
Olag leaned over Wellvang to peer up at the apartment building, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, delivering Wellvang a faceful of wet armpit.
"Nyet!" Olag slammed the dash again, nearly gagging on his own fury.
Marina, 37, lives in Novgorod, Russia, a "city museum," with her husband, Olag, a designer ("who is very kind, timid, sincere, and serious"), their two daughters (Alina, 3, and Ann, 14), Marina's mother, and their pet dog.
Olag, she points out, "isn't much of a talker (he's different from me) and we both like beautiful music and interesting books." Their oldest daughter, Ann, "has a long plait, does well at the Gymnasia [a school where literature, art, theatre, and Christianity are her major subjects], is modest, pretty, and has a perfect sense of humor."