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.
She complains all day long, constantly demands that the bandages be changed and is generally dissatisfied with everything.
I'll be glad 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 has come up with the idea of saying “shh, shh” to me all night too.
According 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.
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