MONDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1943
Dearest Kitty,
The closer it got to St. Nicholas Day, the more we all thought back to last years festively decorated basket.
More than anyone, I thought it would be terrible to skip a celebration this year. After long deliberation, I finally came up with an idea, something funny. I sulted rim, and
a week ago we set to work writing a verse for each person.
Sunday evening at a quarter to eight we trooped upstairs carrying the big laundry basket, which had been decorated with cutouts and bows made of pink and blue carbon paper. On top was a large piece of brown ing paper with a ached.
Everyone was rather amazed at the sheer size of the gift. I removed the note and read it aloud:
"Once again St. Nicholas Day Has even e to our hideaway;
It wont be quite as Jun, I fear, As the happy day we had last year.
Then we were hopeful, no reason to doubt That optimism would win the bout, And by the time this year came round, Wed all be free, and s* and sound.
Still, lets not Jet its St. Nicholas Day, Though weve nothio give away.
Well have to find something else to do:
So everyone please look in their shoe!」
As each person took their own shoe out of the basket, there was a roar of laughter.
Inside each shoe was a little ed package addressed to its owner.
Yours, Anne
Dearest Kitty,
A bad case of flu has prevented me from writing to you until today. Being sick here is dreadful. With every cough, I had to duder the bla -- owice, three times -- and try to keep from coughing anymore.
Most of the time the tickle refused to go away, so I had to drink milk with honey, sugar or cough drops. I get dizzy just thinking about all the cures Ive been subjected to: sweating out the fever, steam treatment, wet presses, dry presses, hot drinks, swabbing my throat, lying still, heating pad, hot-water bottles, lemonade and, every two hours, the thermometer. Will these remedies really make you better? The worst part was when Mr. Dussel decided to play doctor and lay his pomaded head on my bare chest to listen to the sounds. Not only did his hair tickle, but I was embarrassed, even though he went to school thirty years ago and does have some kind of medical degree. Why should he lay his head on my heart? After all, hes not my
boyfriend! For that matter, he wouldnt be able to tell a healthy sound from an uhy one.
Hed have to have his ears ed first, since hes being alarmingly hard of hearing. But enough about my illness. Im fit as a fiddle again. Ive grown almost half an ind gaiwo pounds. Im pale, but itg to get bay books.
Ausnahmsweise* (the only word that will do here [* By way of exception]), were all getting oogether. No squabbles, though that probably wont last long. There hasnt been such pead quiet in this house for at least six months.
Bep is still in isolation, but any day now her sister will no longer be tagious.
For Christmas, were gettira cooking oil, dy and molasses. For Hanukkah, Mr.
Dussel gave Mrs. van Daan and Mother a beautiful cake, which hed asked Miep to bake. On top of all the work she has to do! Margot and I received a brooch made out of a penny, all bright and shiny. I t really describe it, but its lovely.
I also have a Christmas present for Miep and Bep. For a whole month Ive saved up the sugar I put on my hot cereal, and Mr. Kleiman has used it to have fondant made.
The