housekeeper at the baker's house, of Kuttenberg
“I keep the household at number seven respectable, or I would if the miserable roof kept the rain out.”
Things Grete had written, latest first, with the glosses of her neighbours.
the Thursday after Rogation Sunday, at Sext
Another three groschen worth of rye ruined. The damp is in the sacks again because John will not pay Nicholas his back wages to climb up and patch the bloody tiles. My parlor beam is black with rot and I will be crushed in my sleep.
Nota scribaeShe jabbed her finger at the ceiling so fiercely she knocked over my inkhorn.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
If that spoiled girl Christine Barbora does not stop her screaming through the walls, I will box her ears myself. So her cooper boy marched north with the army. The world does not stop turning because a wretched prentice goes to war. Some of us have floors to sweep.
George is not a wretched prentice! He is a brave man, unlike the cowards hiding in this house.
Hold your tongue, girl, and Grete, mind your own dust.
the eve of St George, at None
Saw Anna struggling with the washing tub today. Her bad shoulder from that cart accident is getting worse. If John sees she can barely lift the linen, he'll toss her out to beg in the mud. Lord preserve us from the charity of landlords.
Hush, Grete. He will hear you. I can still scrub.
Nota scribaeDictated in the yard. She paused to empty a bucket of dirty water into the street.
the Monday of the third week of Lent, at Vespers
Tobias has been strutting around the yard all afternoon like a cock on a dunghill. Puffed-up fool. If he spent half the time mending the shutters that he spends polishing his belt, we wouldn't be drowning every time the sky goes gray.
Candlemas, at Terce
The priest tells us to give thanks, but I spent the dawn hauling three buckets of rainwater out of the parlor. They say Margery always mended the shutters on time. God rest her soul, for her brother John is a miser who'd let us all drown to save a penny.
My sister's inheritance is tied up, Grete. I cannot touch it.
Nota scribaeThe word she used for her landlord was far less pious before I made her change it.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
Margery left the inheritance too tangled, Grete. I have not the coin for pitch this week.
Pay me what you owe since Saint Martin's day, and I'll fetch the ladder. Not before.