friday, february 5, 1943
dearest kitty,
though it''s been ages since i''ve written to you about the squabbles, there''s still no change. in the begin ning mr. dussel took our soon-forgotten shes very seriously, but now he''s grown used to them and no longer tries to mediate.
margot and peter aren''t exactly what you''d call "young"; they''re both so quiet and boring. next to them, i stick out like a sore thumb, and i''m always being told, "margot and peter don''t act that way. why don''t you follow your sister''s example!" i hate that.
i confess that i have absolutely no desire to be like margot. she''s too weak-willed and passive to suit me; she lets herself be swayed by others and always backs down under pressure. i want to have more spunk! but i keep ideas like these to myself. they''d onlyugh at me if i offered this in my defense.
during meals the air is filled with tension. fortunately, the outbursts are sometimes held in check by the "soup eaters," the people from the office whoe up to have a cup of soup for lunch.
this afternoon mr. van daan again brought up the fact that margot eats so little. "i suppose you do it to keep your figure," he added in a mocking tone.
mother, who alwayses to margot''s defense, said in a loud voice, "i can''t stand that stupid chatter of yours a minute longer."
mrs. van d. turned red as a beet. mr. van d. stared straight ahead and said nothing.
still, we often have a goodugh. not long ago mrs. van d. was entertaining us with some bit of nonsense or another. she was talking about the past, about how well she got along with her father and what a flirt she was. "and you know," she continued, "my father told me that if a gentleman ever got fresh, i was to say, ''remem ber, sir, that i''m ady,'' and he''d know what i meant." we split our sidesughing, as if she''d told us a good joke.
even peter, though he''s usually quiet, asionally gives rise to hrity. he has the misfortune of adoring foreign words without knowing what they mean. one afternoon we couldn''t use the toilet because there were visitors in the office. unable to wait, he went to the bathroom but didn''t flush the toilet. to warn us of the unpleasant odor, he tacked a sign to the bathroom door: "rsvp -- gas!" of course, he meant "danger -- gas!" but he thought "rsvp" looked more elegant. he didn''t have the faintest idea that it meant "please reply."
yours, anne
dearest kitty,
though it''s been ages since i''ve written to you about the squabbles, there''s still no change. in the begin ning mr. dussel took our soon-forgotten shes very seriously, but now he''s grown used to them and no longer tries to mediate.
margot and peter aren''t exactly what you''d call "young"; they''re both so quiet and boring. next to them, i stick out like a sore thumb, and i''m always being told, "margot and peter don''t act that way. why don''t you follow your sister''s example!" i hate that.
i confess that i have absolutely no desire to be like margot. she''s too weak-willed and passive to suit me; she lets herself be swayed by others and always backs down under pressure. i want to have more spunk! but i keep ideas like these to myself. they''d onlyugh at me if i offered this in my defense.
during meals the air is filled with tension. fortunately, the outbursts are sometimes held in check by the "soup eaters," the people from the office whoe up to have a cup of soup for lunch.
this afternoon mr. van daan again brought up the fact that margot eats so little. "i suppose you do it to keep your figure," he added in a mocking tone.
mother, who alwayses to margot''s defense, said in a loud voice, "i can''t stand that stupid chatter of yours a minute longer."
mrs. van d. turned red as a beet. mr. van d. stared straight ahead and said nothing.
still, we often have a goodugh. not long ago mrs. van d. was entertaining us with some bit of nonsense or another. she was talking about the past, about how well she got along with her father and what a flirt she was. "and you know," she continued, "my father told me that if a gentleman ever got fresh, i was to say, ''remem ber, sir, that i''m ady,'' and he''d know what i meant." we split our sidesughing, as if she''d told us a good joke.
even peter, though he''s usually quiet, asionally gives rise to hrity. he has the misfortune of adoring foreign words without knowing what they mean. one afternoon we couldn''t use the toilet because there were visitors in the office. unable to wait, he went to the bathroom but didn''t flush the toilet. to warn us of the unpleasant odor, he tacked a sign to the bathroom door: "rsvp -- gas!" of course, he meant "danger -- gas!" but he thought "rsvp" looked more elegant. he didn''t have the faintest idea that it meant "please reply."
yours, anne