Our love began with two simple promises: he vowed not to snore, and she vowed not to speak during the finale of her favorite TV series. Enough time has passed since then for him to learn to make symphonies with his nose that set off the neighbors' alarms, and she professionally spoils even what she sees for the first time. We are a walking experiment in living together: he is convinced that French fries are a side dish, she is convinced that they are the main course, and therefore our freezer is always stocked with a strategic supply of fries in case of a zombie apocalypse. We are having an endless internal debate about who washed the dishes last (spoiler: in fact, no one, it was apparently the brownie). Guests of our page are mentally given virtual earplugs and a TV remote control - don’t thank us, we’re just sharing ourselves.

He studies a rare species - the Blue Bird of Luck - while lying on the sofa and scrolling through his social media feed. Scientific works: “Why do I always come across videos with cats”, “The influence of the remote control on family happiness” and “Top 10 reasons not to get up before lunch on Saturday.” Instruments for observations: telephone, mug of tea and blanket. During periods of activity, he can make expeditions to the refrigerator - then silence reigns in the house, broken only by the sound of the door opening.

Meet the main characters: He is an armchair analyst and master of the remote control, whose catchphrase “I’m already going to bed” lasts exactly forty minutes on the phone. She's a collector of pretty mugs and an "I told you so" skill, able to pinpoint what food is missing from the refrigerator even when she's in another room. The premise: they have been living in the same apartment for a certain of years and are still figuring out who transferred the last paper napkin. Each episode is an epic night battle for a blanket, an exciting quest “what to cook for dinner today so that no one dies” and a psychological drama “look at me, I love you in a completely different way when you put your socks in the basket.” The ending is always the same: cuddling on the couch, they discuss what a great series they have and that they “would like to extend it for a couple more seasons.” And we are very glad that you follow our episodes without rewinding (well, almost).

She claims that she has the gift of making even plastic bloom. In fact, her hobby is an eternal battle with cacti (she managed to dry out three of them, watering them “according to her mood”) and the heroic resurrection of a suddenly broke ficus with the help of persuasion and fertilizers. Accompanied by monologues: “I watered you last time, why did you drop the leaves again?” He watches this from the sofa, sometimes commenting: “Maybe they just don’t like it with us?” To which he receives an immediate response: “They love me, they’re just showing me their character.”