Kathy to Hilary, June 11, 1972, Tehran, Iran June 11, 12, or 13, 1972
Dear Hilary,
Sorry that I didn’t write back promptly as I should have--if I don’t write a letter right away it never gets written. At any rate, I’ve started now and MAYBE I’ll finish it.
Be of good cheer, Mädchen! We have the summer and our whole lives ahead of us (what a discouraging thought THAT is). I take it that you weren’t in the highest of spirits when you wrote your letter--I hope that isn’t your continual state of mind these days. It isn’t mine because my emotions for the past two months have been up and down all over the place and never neutral. Whew.
I envy you--driving! Gee, think of all the things you can do now, like getting yourself killed or driving off the side of Key Bridge. (My morbidity only increases as I get older.)
Playing mini-golf in Vanak. 
I have managed to survive the school year, though we haven’t got our report cards yet--we do Thursday--though school was out last Thursday. They have a very half-assed way of doing things here sometimes, but I don’t mind too much because I’m that way myself. After I got the Guidance Counselor’s report about the state of my intelligence I haven’t bothered to do a bit of studying--we just endured a week of exams and I know that the weather was trying to make us miserable as possible I don’t know how I’ll live through the long summer days--the summer has already overpowered me and I’ve only been free for four days. Seems like forty. I got beautifully sunburned yesterday playing putt-putt at Vanak. Not only did I get sunburned, but I LOST.
Score card. 
I really must think of something constructive to do. There are charity groups and summer school and visiting the one remaining female friend that is left to me in Tehran. I’ll probably take German at the Goethe Institut but that’s only twice and week and not important enough to be considered as a time consumer. I look at everything I do in terms of the hours that it will eat up. I don’t allow myself to go to bed before 10. It’s awful not to be able to leave the house by myself at night. Oh, I suppose I could, but there is nowhere I can go alone without being thought a whore and suffering for it. I suppose I am basically a domestic type but won’t admit it. I live such a sedentary life--no activities at all. I’ve got a hang-up against horseback riding since my little accident (I think I told you about it) and it has left me with a bad back--back troubles at the age of sixteen! I also have a weak ankle from falling playing basketball. Many are the woes of the hypochondriac. Oh yes, I broke my beloved glasses and what with my myopia and the blinding Persian sun I’ve been getting super headaches. Life is cruel, is it not?
6:04:41 AM 
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