I witnessed an exchange today between my host parents that confirms the fact that marriage is marriage the world around:
Host Mom: Enters apartment after a very long day's work. Looks at the box laying on the floor and asks, "What's this?"
Host Dad: "That's a weed whacker." [I confess, I don't know the word for "weed whacker" in Russian, but I understood the other word in the two-word sentence (это) and I knew what the box was for, so I used my well-honed skills of contextual translation.]
[In fact, an hour earlier Host Dad had been giddily putting it together, even taking it for a test run in his bedroom. I was watching when he accidentally weed-whacked the bed skirt. Oops, just hope Host Mom doesn't see that...]
Host Mom: "What do we need that for?"
Host Dad: "For the dacha."
Host Mom: "But we don't need it. How much did you pay?"
Kind of reminds me the time I brought home the deli slicer...