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eep in properly made beds that night； we had to get going and straighten up the mess。 mother and margot were unable to move a muscle。 they lay down on their bare mattresses； tired； miserable and i dont know what else。 but father and i； the two cleaner…uppers in the family； started in right away。
all day long we unpacked boxes； filled cupboards； hammered nails and straightened up the mess； until we fell exhausted into our clean beds at night。 we hadnt eaten a hot meal all day； but we didnt care； mother and margot were too tired and keyed up to eat； and father and i were too busy。
tuesday morning we started where we left off the night before。 bep and miep went grocery shopping with our ration coupons； father worked on our blackout screens； we scrubbed the kitchen floor； and were once again busy from sunup to sundown。 until wednesday； i didnt have a chance to think about the enormous change in my life。
then for the first time since our arrival in the secret annex； i found a moment to tell you all about it and to realize what had happened to me and what was yet to happen。
yours； anne
saturday； july 11； 1942
dearest kitty；
father； mother and margot still cant get used to the chiming of the westertoren clock； which tells us the time every quarter of an hour。 not me； i liked it from the start； it sounds so reassuring； especially at night。 you no doubt want to hear what i think of being in hiding。 well； all i can say is that i dont really know yet。 i dont think ill ever feel at home in this house； but that doesnt mean i hate it。 its more like being on vacation in some strange pension。 kind of an odd way to look at life in hiding； but thats how things are。 the annex is an ideal place to hide in。 it may be damp and lopsided； but theres probably not a more fortable hiding place in all of amsterdam。 no； in all of holland。
up to now our bedroom； with its blank walls； was very bare。 thanks to father who brought my entire postcard and movie…star collection here beforehand and to a brush and a pot of glue； i was able to plaster the walls with pictures。 it looks much more cheerful。 when the van daans arrive； well be able to build cupboards and other odds and ends out of the wood piled in the attic。
margot and mother have recovered somewhat。 yesterday mother felt well enough to cook split…pea soup for the first time； but then she was downstairstalking and forgot all about it。 the beans were scorched black； and no amount of scraping could get them out of the pan。
last night the four of us went down to the private office and listened to england on the radio。 i was so scared someone might hear it that i literally begged father to take me back upstairs。 mother understood my anxiety and went with me。 whatever we do； were very afraid the neighbors might hear or see us。 we started off immediately the first day sewing curtains。 actually； you can hardly call them that； since theyre nothing but scraps of fabric； varying greatly in shape； quality and pattern； which father and i stitched crookedly together with unskilled fingers。 these works of art were tacked to
the windows； where theyll stay until we e out of hiding。
the building on our right is a branch of the keg pany； a firm from zaandam； and on the left is a furniture workshop。 though the people who work there are not on the premises after hours； any sound we make might travel through the walls。 weve forbidden margot to cough at night； even though she has a bad cold； and are giving her large doses of codeine。
im looking forward to the arrival of the van daans； which is set for tuesday。 it will be much more fun and also not as quiet。 you see； its the silence that makes me so nervous during the evenings and nights； and id give anything to have one of our helpers sleep here。
its really not that bad here； since we can do our own cooking and can listen to the radio in daddys office。
mr。 kleiman and miep； and bep voskuijl too； have helped us so much。 weve already canned loads of rhubarb； strawberries and cherries； so for the time being i doubt well be bored。 we also have a supply of reading material； and were going to buy lots of games。 of course； we cant ever look out the window or go outside。 and we have to be quiet so the people downstairs cant hear us。
yesterday we had our hands full。 we had to pit two crates of cherries for mr。 kugler to can。 were going to use the empty crates to make bookshelves。
someones calling me。
yours； anne
ment added by anne on september 2g； 1942： not beina able to ao outside upsets me more than i can say； and im terrified our hidina place will be discovered and that well be shot。 that； of course； is a fairly dismal prospect。
sunday； july 12； 1942
theyve all been so nice to me this last month because of my birthday； and yet every day i feel myself drifting further away from mother and margot。 i worked hard today and they praised me； only to start picking on me again five minutes later。
you can easily see the difference between the way they deal with margot and the way they deal with me。 for example； margot broke the vacuum cleaner； and because of
that weve been without light for the rest of the day。 mother said； 〃well； margot； its easy to see youre not used to working； otherwise； youd have known better than to yank the plug out by the cord。〃 margot made some reply； and that was the end of the story。
but this afternoon； when i wanted to rewrite something on mothers shopping list because her handwriting is so hard to read； she wouldnt let me。 she bawled me out again； and the whole family wound up getting involved。
i dont fit in with them； and ive felt that clearly in the last few weeks。 theyre so sentimental together； but id rather be sentimental on my own。 theyre always saying how nice it is with the four of us； and that we get along so well； without giving a moments thought to the fact that i dont feel that way。
daddys the only one who understands me； now and again； though he usually sides with mother and margot。 another thing i cant stand is having them talk about me in front of outsiders； telling them how i cried or how sensibly im behaving。 its horrible。
and sometimes they talk about moortje