From the Notebook of the Retired Clerk Kassian Yamanov

Yesterday, February 29th, I celebrated my name day—for the first time in the last three years. One fuss and expenses: it came to five rubles. We celebrated at my apartment; the owner allowed it but warned: no noise and no fights. My guys came, and some of the neighbors too. At first everything was proper and polite, but then Ivan Svistkov drank too much, started to topple over, knocked down a wardrobe, tore the door off the stove, and went to his place—by mistake throwing on the owner’s fox fur cloak instead of his own coat. In the morning, they found they were missing the fur cloak. The owner got furious, cursed me, and kicked me out. That’s how I celebrated my name day…