This week I had written to her gynecologist for a check. And in the morning I got a call very early from the hospital and was told that due to the fact that someone has canceled my account, I can come to them already in 9. 30. I had just sent his family to school and work and the clock is already a quarter to nine, and to the doctor was 35 minutes. By this, I was in a hurry. As probably most of the women before visiting the gynecologist I wanted to take some time to intimate hygiene, but this time I had too little time for thorough care, so I just grabbed a wash cloth, lying on the sink, and a quick substitution of its help to at least have a "presentable" appearance. I quickly threw the rag into the tank of dirty laundry, dressed quickly and went in haste to the clinic. There I had to wait a few minutes before I was able to get in to the doctor's office. Since I, like many women, is familiar with this procedure for many years, I routinely climbed on a chair, staring at the ceiling and imagined, as if I'm in Paris or in some other remote location. The doctor came and I must say that was a bit surprised when he said, "Oh, today we tried!" I did not say anything and was relieved perceived end of the procedure. Rest of the day I spent on household chores - cleaning, shopping, cooking. . . When finished schoolwork, my six year old daughter returned home. She played one in the bathroom when she shouted: Mom, where's my wash cloth? "I told her that she was in the wash, and that she took himself clean. But she replied:" No, Mom, I need to be the one which was lying on the sink, I've put into it all their glitter and stars!