Every time I think I've seen the bottom, new depths of human (Russian?) depravity are revealed to me.
One of our teachers has been married to a Russian woman for over twenty years. They have several children, and after living abroad for many years, moved back here to Vodkaberg several years ago.
His wife is expecting another child.
The other day he's home from work because of the heavy snow and there's a knock on the door. It's a middle-aged male Russian, inquiring after his wife by her first name. (We'll call her Natasha.)
He politely invites the guy in. "And how do you know Natasha?" he asks.
"I'm her boyfriend, I guess. . . we're going to have a baby soon," says the guy, completely unaware that Natasha is married to the man standing in front of him.
Natasha, who was at the shop, arrived shortly after to find, unsurprisingly, her husband planning divorce proceedings. (I myself would probably have been planning on locating a shallow grave, but that's just me.)
I'm flabbergasted. I now understand what that word means.