My Mom Told Me To Write This Post

I called my Mom this week for the first time in way too long (sorry Mom). Technology (like the internet) makes it easy to call home, but reality (like time zones) makes it hard. It would be great if the internet could somehow solve time zones. Eh, you might call me a dreamer, but I’m not the only one, right?

Let me start off by wishing everyone a happy Wine and Downton Abbey Monday! I’ll be right back, going to pour another glass.


Photo on 2013-10-21 at 20.28 #6

So, we have some catching up to do, don’t we?

Harvey and I are doing well. He’s been keeping to the walls and I’ve been disinfecting my kitchen three times a week. So far we haven’t killed each other. I think he shares my weakness for period BBC dramas because he watched all of North and South with me this weekend. I can’t blame the little guy; I mean who can say no to Wuthering Heights, the mini-series, or six episodes back to back of Pride and Prejudice?

I had a pretty quiet weekend, I was still nursing a sprained ankle from two weeks ago.

2013-10-09 20.17.42

I don’t know if its because I’m getting older or if my sprain was aggravated by a bone chip, but it sure did take forever to heal!

Even so, I tried really hard to not let my hurt ankle slow me down. I even went on a tour to Loch Ness and Glencoe with some friends and blogged about it on The Hairy Coo blog.


There were some cute German dudes on our tour and my friends encouraged me to flirt with them, but was I feeling too self conscious with my swollen ankles, which are obvious even in this picture:

the girls at Loch Ness

Maybe I read too many turn of the 19th century romance novels, but I still think that a discrete flash of an ankle should guarantee a proposal of marriage. Of course, no dude wants to marry a girl with fat ankles.

As the week went on, my ankle continued to fester. I hobbled around, missed several buses, and cried like a baby. In public. I even went to the doctor because as per my class notes on inflammation, I had officially crossed the line between acute inflammatory response and chronic. I told the doctor that and she laughed at me and told me to keep it elevated and rest. In the end, time heals all and I walked home today without limping. I even farted audibly and started giggling, so I guess you could say I’m in good spirits.

Rewind: did I say I wrote a post of The Hairy Coo blog? Why yes, yes I did. You can read my introductory post here. I would actually love it if you commented and sent me to cool and exciting places in Edinburgh. But, for the real behind the scenes story on how I went from drooling over McDreamy to getting cozy with the Hairy Coo Marketing team, you’ll have to wait for my next blog post. The wine is starting to catch up with me.

Also coming to a future blog post near you: Living without a Washing Machine, How to Survive Sans Underwear, Socks and Pants by E.M. Dixon. I’m expecting a new washing machine soon, but I’ve had to get creative with my outfits….

About ermodi

i like champagne and nachos. i watch people’s mouths move when they talk to me and judge if they are a good kisser i like to write with fine-tip Sharpies because i think it makes me look confident i bite my nails i think doing the dishes is a very lonely chore i think “autumn” is the prettiest word in the English language. i believe in love – or, at least something that resembles love, but i don’t trust this idea of forever.
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