tuesday, december 22, 1942
dearest kitty,
the annex was delighted to hear that we''ll all be receiving an extra quarter pound of butter for christmas. ording to the newspaper, everyone is entitled to half a pound, but they mean those lucky souls who get their ration books from the government, not jews in hiding like us who can only afford to buy four rather than eight ration books on the ck market. each of us is going to bake something with the butter. this morning i made two cakes and a batch of cookies. it''s very busy upstairs, and mother has informed me that i''m not to do any studying or reading until all the household chores have been finished.
mrs. van daan is lying in bed nursing her bruised rib. sheins all day long, constantly demands that the bandages be changed and is generally dissatisfied with everything. i''ll be d when she gets back on her feet and can clean up after herself because, i must admit, she''s extraordinarily hardworking and neat, and as long as she''s in good physical and mental condition, she''s quite cheerful.
as if i don''t hear "shh, shh" enough during the day because i''m always making "too much" noise, my dear roommate hase up with the idea of saying "shh, shh" to me all night too. ording to him, i shouldn''t even turn over. i refuse to take any notice of him, and the next time he shushes me, i''m going to shush him right back.
he gets more exasperating and egotistical as the days go by. except for the first week, i haven''t seen even one of the cookies he so generously promised me. he''s partic rly infuriating on sundays, when he switches on the light at the crack of dawn to exercise for ten minutes.
to me, the torment seems tost for hours, since the chairs i use to make my bed longer are constantly being jiggled under my sleepy head. after rounding off his limbering-up exercises with a few vigorous arm swings, his lordship begins dressing. his underwear is hanging on a hook, so first he lumbers over to get it and then lumbers back, past my bed. but his tie is on the table, so once again he pushes and bumps his way past the chairs.
but i mustn''t waste any more of your time griping about disgusting old men. it won''t help matters anyway. my ns for revenge, such as unscrewing the lightbulb, locking the door and hiding his clothes, have unfortu nately had to be abandoned in the interests of peace.
oh, i''m bing so sensible! we''ve got to be reasonable about everything we do here: studying, listen ing, holding our tongues, helping others, being kind, makingpromises and i don''t know what else! i''m afraid mymon sense, which was in short supply to begin with, will be used up too quickly and i won''t have any left by the time the war is over.
yours, anne
dearest kitty,
the annex was delighted to hear that we''ll all be receiving an extra quarter pound of butter for christmas. ording to the newspaper, everyone is entitled to half a pound, but they mean those lucky souls who get their ration books from the government, not jews in hiding like us who can only afford to buy four rather than eight ration books on the ck market. each of us is going to bake something with the butter. this morning i made two cakes and a batch of cookies. it''s very busy upstairs, and mother has informed me that i''m not to do any studying or reading until all the household chores have been finished.
mrs. van daan is lying in bed nursing her bruised rib. sheins all day long, constantly demands that the bandages be changed and is generally dissatisfied with everything. i''ll be d when she gets back on her feet and can clean up after herself because, i must admit, she''s extraordinarily hardworking and neat, and as long as she''s in good physical and mental condition, she''s quite cheerful.
as if i don''t hear "shh, shh" enough during the day because i''m always making "too much" noise, my dear roommate hase up with the idea of saying "shh, shh" to me all night too. ording to him, i shouldn''t even turn over. i refuse to take any notice of him, and the next time he shushes me, i''m going to shush him right back.
he gets more exasperating and egotistical as the days go by. except for the first week, i haven''t seen even one of the cookies he so generously promised me. he''s partic rly infuriating on sundays, when he switches on the light at the crack of dawn to exercise for ten minutes.
to me, the torment seems tost for hours, since the chairs i use to make my bed longer are constantly being jiggled under my sleepy head. after rounding off his limbering-up exercises with a few vigorous arm swings, his lordship begins dressing. his underwear is hanging on a hook, so first he lumbers over to get it and then lumbers back, past my bed. but his tie is on the table, so once again he pushes and bumps his way past the chairs.
but i mustn''t waste any more of your time griping about disgusting old men. it won''t help matters anyway. my ns for revenge, such as unscrewing the lightbulb, locking the door and hiding his clothes, have unfortu nately had to be abandoned in the interests of peace.
oh, i''m bing so sensible! we''ve got to be reasonable about everything we do here: studying, listen ing, holding our tongues, helping others, being kind, makingpromises and i don''t know what else! i''m afraid mymon sense, which was in short supply to begin with, will be used up too quickly and i won''t have any left by the time the war is over.
yours, anne