Day Eight Hundred and Two

We had a nice quiet day. Everybody was very busy.

Craig and I played catch the ball. After toasts. And too long coffees. He is very slow. It is known.

Niamh was at her dance a lot school. And Zita rode her fast bicycle to her nearly new work. Way down town. Craig and Emmet had an after lunch appointment. 

I had the whole house. Just for me. I guarded it. All by myself. Because I was in charge. Ha.

It is going to be a soggy night. The radio said so. Oh well.  

Everybody will have dinner all together tonight. No dance a lot. No nice universites. Just my family all together. That is what is right. 

They will talk and talk and talk. I will just listen. And have a nice nap. On the floor behind Niamh and Zita's chair. So I can catch anything that might fall. And say thanks to Mister Saint Newton. Ha.

If everybody votes not to be Scotsmen maybe Craig will not be able to have porridge. Or scones. With tasty jam. Or listen to his funny music. Oh dear. 

Everybody will have to pretend to be Scotsmen all for themselves. 

People should not vote on who they are. They should just vote for their own rascals. 

I know who I am. I did not have to vote to be Miss Poppy. I just am a nice Bouvier from way far away Flandres. I did not have to win a vote to be me. People are silly. 

My friend Niamh and I are going for a little walk. Before dinner. Before the too much rain. Before Zita comes home from way downtown.