I forgot to turn in the column on time. In general, I forget everything - either the washed clothes in the washing machine, or the boiling potatoes on the stove. Recently, I forgot right in the middle of the lesson what I said and what I wanted to say. Therefore, I always ask the editors to whom I hand over the texts to become my coffin on wheels: I can’t cope on my own.

A coffin on wheels is a horror story from childhood, in which all the relish is in forcing horror. The radio says to the girl who was left alone at home: a girl is a girl, a coffin on wheels rides through the streets. Then - a girl-girl, a coffin on wheels rides down your street. Then - a coffin on wheels found your house. Then - rises to your floor. Well, then this coffin appears at the girl's house, and then it depends on the narrator's fantasy. Some dull rubbish hangs on the current sites about a dead girl with a wheel in her mouth, but in my childhood she famously smashed a coffin on wheels with a hammer, and from there a skeleton crawled out and complained that they were terribly fighting for repairs in a car service.

Actually, the coffin on wheels came to my mind when my daughter was in the seventh or eighth grade. I came home from work and found chaos at home. Uncleaned plates, scattered papers, a school backpack in the hallway, unfinished homework - everything that infuriates a tired mother crawling home at ten o'clock in the evening. And neither swearing, nor explanations, nor notations - nothing helped. I'm tired of spending every evening in a dull showdown. And in a good moment, I remembered the coffin on wheels. And she started calling.

Girl-girl, coffin on wheels coming out of work. He asks to wash the dishes and water the flowers. And have you done your algebra yet?

Girl-girl, the coffin on wheels is already in the subway, how's the algebra?

A girl-girl, a coffin on wheels got into a minibus and in 20 minutes will be at home. If you have papers lying on the floor, put them away.

O miracle! By my arrival, part of the lessons had been done, papers had been collected from the floor, and sometimes even the dishes had been washed. And then somehow it began to turn out by itself, with one call. And even without it. And the need to yell and educate completely disappeared.

A coffin on wheels can generally do a good job when one of the family members chronically forgets about the necessary household and work chores. It is human nature to forget about the non-urgent or unpleasant, and a coffin on wheels perfectly saves from monstrous family scenes.

I know one family where the mother regularly scolded her daughter for the untidy room, lamenting "who will marry you like that." The daughter was furious, demanded that she not pester and climb into her room: it's disgusting to look - don't look. She may have been disturbed by the mess herself, but such a volume of work and the inability to systematize chaos led her to despair. To paralysis. To helpless longing. I can’t do anything, I don’t know how, I’m mediocre, no one needs me like that. Eternal mountains of rubbish in the nursery, eternal conflicts, the eternal “I am the worst” to myself and “close the door from the other side” out loud.

Many years later, the daughter grew up, gave birth to a child - and at some point she began to get sick and in dire need of her mother's help. And my mother became a grandmother. And suddenly she stopped nag her daughter - and began to simply offer: let me help you? Let's go through the closet together, shall we? Let's get it right here, shall we? No notations, no lamentations, no condemnation - a simple "it's hard for you, let's help." And help was gratefully received.

Sometimes you listen or read other people's complaints about family conflicts - because of some unfortunate kettle that the wife forgets to warm up for the arrival of her husband, because of unwashed dishes in the sink, because of the mess in the hallway, because of homework that is postponed until nights, and exams, for which big children seem to be preparing, but they themselves are sitting on social networks - they seem to be pulling rubber, and it would be nice if someone came to their aid, they would say - so, stop, now it’s two hours to work, and then - so be it, half an hour of fooling around ...

But help comes vicious and revealing: ahh, you again? More dishes? Are the boots lying around again? Dropped your coat again? Are you sitting on VKontakte again? Ahhh, is this how you prepare for the exam? Lord, why do I need this? Grow-grow, teach-learn, pay-pay...

On the other hand, that's enough, huh? can you stop screaming? Well, tired ... Get out of here already, huh? got it! Tired! What are you striving for? Yes, I can leave, do you need it?

Here, too, a coffin on wheels works, a funny and not malicious, not an accusatory, not a condemning reminder: have you forgotten about this? Do you remember this? It's time to work! So one familiar mother in the first sessions of the child, by agreement, looked into the room every half an hour: are you working? No? Ku-ku! It's time to work!

No comments about "going around", no condemnation - simple technical assistance in structuring time, a cuckoo on the clock, an outside function of the diary.

True, in order for it to work, we must be trusted and not expect a waterfall of reproaches, pokes, kicks and accusations from our side. Otherwise - leave me alone, I know.

They would like friendly help from us - understanding, caring, not prosecutorial. This is how Stolz and Olga, sincerely loving Oblomov, at first saved, pulled and woke him up: wake up, get dressed, read, leave the house .... But no, we take on the functions of a prosecutor and a judge. Whether to your son, whether to your wife, whether to your brother, whether to your husband, whether to your old mother: how many times have I asked you not to give Manya sweets? Well, you are so small! Absolutely not to be trusted! How long can you live in a pigsty, do you like it yourself? A pig - she is a pig! Who needs you like this? Who will marry you? You come home barely alive - like in a stable! What have you been doing all day? What were you doing? A liar and a nonentity! Where is the diary again?

“To reprove means to say about someone: such and such lied, or became angry, or fell into fornication, or did something like that,” Abba Dorotheos instructs. - This is how he slandered his brother, that is, he spoke biasedly about his sin. And to condemn means to say: such and such a liar, angry, fornicator. This one condemned the very disposition of his soul, pronounced a verdict on his whole life, saying that he was such and such, and condemned him as such - and this is a grave sin. It's amazing how much slander comes out of our mouths every day, how much sluts, pigs, fools, boobies, reptiles, bastards, stupid, purposely bullied, idiots, disgraceful, scoundrels, freaks, brainless good mothers and fathers of families, obsessed with the desire to educate and set on the true path, every day pour out the most generous measure for their most beloved people. And after all, this has not even reached colleagues, bosses, Duma deputies and companions in the minibus.

After all, we are told: be merciful, as your Father is merciful. The holy fathers and the ascetic remind us of this: “do not judge or humiliate anyone”, “beware of condemning anyone before God judges him”.

And we will come home, we will see unwashed dishes and a candy wrapper on the floor - and away we go. As if a legion of demons is hiding in unwashed dishes and candy wrappers - and is just waiting for us to want to educate someone.

Although, in order to hand over the work on time, we need a coffin on wheels.