Wednesday January 1st 1919. I have had a feeling all day to day as if I ought to the blues, not exactly that I ought to have them but that it is queer that I haven't them. That isn't the proper way to feel on New Year's day especially since every New Year's day for the last four days we have all thought that of the "damned"(thats what most of us thought all right even if we didn't say it) old war was over we would never feel blue again and neither at least I don't and don't intend to even although I have had to light the lamp this after noon to see to write, and though my gum boot which I wore a hole in the sole of on the hand frozen knaks of earth in the bam hard last week let in a built of oogy mud and water around my foot so that it was just like an eel in a puddle all morning (I was Dad's rubber this after noon) and although that old lust of a Gladys acted just as stubborn as a big can when we tried to load iute the crate this morning and I fat mad enough to bill her and chased her around the yard till I was urided calling her names that wouldn't do for Sunday,and although I had to stand under the dif of the cave of the bam this after noon for about