Day Six Hundred and Twenty Six

I am not fury today. I went to the make me beautiful store yesterday.  Emmet said it will be in hot summer before I am way fury again. Oh dear. I get a bit cold when I am not so fury. Oh well.

Jamie is still fury.  Zorro is still fury.  Casey is way fury.  Just me.  Oh dear.

Poor Niamh has a sore mouth. From the dentist. She can still dance. That is good.

Zita made me a new comfy bed. It is stripy. Like my new duvet. I chewed holes in my old bed. I do not know why. Oh dear. 

Craig's hockey team lost again. He should find nice teams who do not lose so much.

Craig is a French policeman again. Not the one with the nice new dog. Another one. Oh well. He lives in Paris. This policeman likes croissants too. Like Emmet. And me. 

Uncle Bill used to be a policeman. A detective policeman. He did not have a dog. Just a police car. With dents. Ha. 

He used to have a huge fury coat for his motorcycle. A buffalo gave it to him. I never saw it. Craig saw it. It was way way long ago. When they were young. Like me and Emmet and Niamh.

Zita is still writing her very big story for Mr. Saint Paul. It is nearly done. That is good.  

Zita said universities are all most all finished. It is time for the remember everything exams. And lots of Irish tea.