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June 8, 1945 Dear Mr. Hitz, It isn't raining rain today It's raining disappointment! I told my sister this morning that I believed this was the thirty-nineth day and that to-morrow would see the end of this "flood". My! we'd like a little sunshine and a chance to get into the gooseberry patch. We've managed to salvage - and devour - many quarts of our strawberries. I expected to be able to write "finis" on the bibliography this week and send it on with rejoicing - at both ends of its journey. But my hand still objects to typing, and the typist who helped me for two days was called back to work on the Air Base. However, we accomplished considerable, and I see daylight ahead. She will do the final typing, at night, I hope next week. The cold damp days make home seem a good place to stay. But if my typist could have been with me for the final checking the weather would not matter. (over)