I live life by the nine Cs -Chocolate -Coffee -Cobblestone streets -Cats -Crows -Cottages -Cream first / jam second on Scones -Christmas -Commas of the Oxford variety

If you don’t want to read Edgar Allan Poe together by candlelight whilst sharing dark chocolate cheesecake and a vintage bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in an abandoned cottage in the Scottish Highlands during a raging storm, then please don’t tell me you’re “open to trying new things.”

If you don’t want to read Edgar Allan Poe together by candlelight whilst sharing dark chocolate cheesecake and a vintage bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in an abandoned cottage in the Scottish Highlands during a raging storm, then please don’t tell me you’re “open to trying new things.”

I live life by the nine Cs -Chocolate -Coffee -Cobblestone streets -Cats -Crows -Cottages -Cream first / jam second on Scones -Christmas -Commas of the Oxford variety

Someone asked me why I talk to my cats because, in their words, “It’s not like your pets understand what you are saying.” Suffice to say, there comes a time when a friendship has simply run its course.

At the end of the day, don’t we all just want to read books in a cottage during a pouring rain in front of a crackling fire whilst enjoying a plate of emotional support cinnamon rolls?

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but your belief that a bookshelf with a rolling ladder will fix you is a valid one. Anyone who tells you otherwise is not worthy of your friendship.

If we can’t watch Hocus Pocus together whilst carving jack-o’-lanterns and having hot apple cider by candlelight during a full moon on a cool October night with the sound of wolves in the distance, then what's the point?

Surround yourself with the kind of people who consider The Princess Bride to be one of the greatest films of all-time.

Whilst I concede that texting is “convenient”, I much prefer all correspondence to be in the form of a handwritten letter composed on an oak desk by candlelight with a quill dipped into a bottle of ink, enclosed in an envelope with a wax seal, and sent via raven.

Reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula whilst eating garlic bread feels like the height of irony.

Never give up on your dream that one day, you will finally have a bookshelf with a rolling ladder.

At the end of the day, aren't we all just working hard to give our pets a better life?

I’m regrettably not eating a pumpkin scone in the middle of a fog-laden pumpkin patch on a cool October day with the sound of crows in the distance, so no, I’m afraid your email did not “find me well."

Be a handwritten love letter in a world full of Snapchats.

I recognize that "hustle culture" is all the rage, but what about "casually perusing a quaint bookstore on a cobblestone street in Edinburgh during a pouring rain" culture?

To my new followers: You're in for a rude awakening when you discover that 93% of my posts involve cats, scones, independent bookstores, autumn, the Scottish Highlands, Agatha Christie, and the Oxford comma. It’s truly not too late to turn back. My advice is to save yourself whilst you can.

If we can’t read Bram Stoker's Dracula together whilst enjoying a vintage bottle of Château Margaux paired with dark chocolate tiramisu in front of a crackling fire in a Victorian mansion during a full moon on a cool October night with the sound of wolves in the distance, then what’s the point?

At the end of the day, don't we all just want to go on bookstore crawls, bakery crawls, library crawls, and museum crawls?

Sex is great but have you ever spent the day reading Agatha Christie in front of a crackling fire whilst enjoying multiple cups of tea and freshly-baked emotional support scones in a Scottish Highlands cottage during a raging thunderstorm?

Good morning to everyone except those who refer to the Oxford comma as "unnecessary."

Things could be worse, everyone. We could all still be on Twitter.

If you don’t want to read Edgar Allan Poe together by candlelight in a cottage on the Scottish coast during a full moon, then please don’t tell me you’re “relationship material.”

All I want is a cottage in the Scottish Highlands, an Agatha Christie novel, a pouring rain, a crackling fire, a kettle on the stove, a raven keeping watch, and a basket of emotional support scones.

Judge me if you will, but it’s important to embrace your inner-pumpkin.

Normalize bookstore dates.

Remember, if someone asserts that your weekend plans of reading a good book, drinking multiple cups of tea, and indulging in a scandalous amount of scones “doesn’t sound exciting”, then they are simply not the friend you thought they were.

A person‘s attractiveness increases by a minimum of 58% when they support their local bookstore, café, theatre, bakery, and library.

I don’t pretend to know the science behind it, but it’s an incontrovertible truth that a cabinet full of mismatched mugs is far superior to a cabinet full of matched mugs.

For all its convenience, Amazon simply doesn’t hold a candle to a quaint independent bookstore on a rainy day.

Someone just told me that The Princess Bride is "overrated" and long story short it's perfectly acceptable to remove toxic people from your life.

I'm contemplating a side job where I show up on people's doorstep with a pumpkin under each arm, invite myself in, and decorate their place for autumn.

Rain and reading go together like grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Forget dating apps, we need to bring back yearning.

At the moment, I'm regrettably not exploring a quaint bookstore on a cobblestone street in Prague during a raging thunderstorm, so no, I'm afraid your email did not "find me well."

I don't know who needs to hear this, but yes, you do deserve a bookshelf with a rolling ladder.

I held out as long as I could 🎃🍁🍂

I don’t want to sound overly impatient, but it’s been September 1st for several hours now, and the leaves on the trees remain yet unchanged.

Someone asked me to "please stop" with my posts about the Oxford comma. After careful consideration, I’ve determined that I’m unable to abide by such an unreasonable, discourteous, and ill-mannered request.

If you haven’t dropped a book on your face when you attempt to read whilst lying down, can you really claim to have battle scars?

I truly believe that the normalization of nighttime bookstores would change the world.

Just a friendly reminder that your desire to have a bookshelf with a rolling ladder is valid. Don’t allow anyone to disrespect you by telling you otherwise.

I much prefer doing my research amidst the flickering lanterns of an old-fashioned library in Prague during a raging thunderstorm with the help of a library ghost, so no, I'm afraid I have no interest in "asking ChatGPT."

Cats make the world a better place.

A thunderstorm enhances the reading experience by at least 52%.

At the end of the day, don’t we all just want to read Bram Stoker’s Dracula in a dimly-lit café on a cobblestone side street in Prague during a pouring rain whilst enjoying cappuccinos and croissants?