householder of Kuttenberg, of Kuttenberg
“I keep a clean house, mind my own business, and ask only that people return what they borrow.”
Things Jitka Cooper had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the eve of Ascension, at Vespers
Felice Miller is still watering her herbs with my tin pitcher. Fourteen groschen that cost me. She says I gave it to her for hauling water tubs last winter. I did no such thing. I want it back before Whitsun, but I have no man to go and roar at her door for it.
Nota scribaeShe crossed her arms and glared at the inkwell until I finished writing.
the second day of Easter week, at None
If you lend a drawknife in this town, you may as well throw it in the river. Vlasta Miller has had my best one since Candlemas. Every time I ask, she is in the middle of some vital task. God grant me patience, or I will end up with nothing left to my name.
I only need it for the rest of the week, I swear by the Virgin. The wood is stubborn this spring.
the Thursday before Easter, at Prime
I smelled stale ale on Lida Spicer this morning, and the bells had not even rung for noon. She weeps over a cheap brass ring she lost, but sitting in the ale-pot cures no grief. Denis is a blind fool not to see his house falling to ruin.
You do not understand. Since Paul went to Prague, there is nobody left to listen to my troubles. The house is so quiet.
Nota scribaeThe word she used for Lida's husband was considerably coarser.
St Gregory's day, at Terce
The market is a den of thieves today. They say the King's brother has soldiers on the roads taking the grain, so bread is dearer than silver. I stood my ground for a fair weight of flour, but you must watch the merchant's scales like a hawk or they will rob you blind.
Ay, it is terrible. Standa says the wagons at the goods yard are half empty these days.
Nota scribaeThe dictating of this complaint took the better part of an hour.
Candlemas, at Sext
Like a fool, I let Felice Miller walk away with my small saw today. I hate a confrontation, so I smiled and nodded. If she does not bring it back by Sunday, I swear by the saints I will stop speaking to half this street. A woman alone must guard her gate.
You should not have let it go, Jitka. You know how she is with borrowed things.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Christ almighty, Jitka, I broke my back with those tubs in the frost! You said yourself I deserved a reward.
A reward of bread, perhaps, not the dearest tin in my house. Bring it back.