The Diary of Anne Frank by Anne Frank

Dearest Kitty, The strangest things happen to you when you're in hiding! Try to picture this. Because we don't have a bath, we wash ourselves in a tin tub, and because there's only hot water in the office (by which I mean the entire lower floor), the seven of us take turns making the most of this great opportunity. But since no two of us are alike and we are all plagued by varying degrees of modesty, each member of the family has selected a different place to wash. Peter takes a bath in the office kitchen, even though it has a glass door. When it's time for his bath, he goes round to each of us in turn and announces that we shouldn't walk past the kitchen for the next half hour. He considers this measure to be sufficient. Mr van D. takes his bath upstairs, reasoning that the safety of his own room outweighs the difficulty of having to carry the hot water up all those stairs. Mrs van D. has yet to take a bath; she's waiting to see which is the best place. Father washes in the private office and Mother in the kitchen behind a fireguard, while Margot and I have declared the front office to be our bathing grounds. Since the curtains are drawn on Saturday afternoon, we scrub ourselves in the dark, while the one who isn't in the bath looks out of the window through a chink in the curtains and gazes in wonder at the endlessly amusing people.

A week ago I decided I didn't like this spot and have been on the lookout for more comfortable quarters. It was Peter who gave me the idea of setting my tin bath in the spacious office lavatory. I can sit down, turn on the light, lock the door, pour out the water without anyone's help, and all without the fear of being seen. I used my lovely bathroom for the first time on Sunday and, strange as it may seem, I like it better than any other place.