I had a call from David of Clan Routine Poutine today, said he would like to invite me to next Thursday's board game night, featuring Mr. Monopoly. I said does it feature coffee machines, fans, marimbas, or honey? He said uh no. I said fantastic then I'll join. I forgot to ask whether anyone there had a penchant for wearing an orange shirt.
By the way, all the said items are still in my parcel-room. I haven't seen any other Livis about, but am pretty suspicious. I'll have to keep a look out. That's what a pedestrian said to me today as I walked into a stop sign.
In the interest of fair, impartial scientific research, I had bought Mrs. Tomson's cherry-and-rhubarb snack-pack yoghurt from the store, and thrown it in the freezer. Earlier this evening I put on a pair of safety goggles and a kitchen smock, and, with clipboard in hand, embarked in a rigourous foray into unknown empirical fields.
My research went everywhere. Not that I mean it was popular, but apparently Mrs. Tomson has an aversion to her products being microwaved. Thankfully by that time the summer-themed Eau de Raid had already evaporated, and my apartment was in serious need of new fragrance. Rhubarb and cherry is actually quite nice. I therefore rate Mrs. Tomson's snack-pack (foil-sealed for freshness) 3.5 out of 5 stars, compared with Nolle's vanilla bliss 140g which gets 2.1 stars for originality and fireworks. Mrs. Tomson's froyo sparked a bit, then imitated my waistline at Thanksgiving before generously spreading my research materials far and wide.
Not to be discouraged. My plaid-wearing professor always said that the scientific method requires patience, courage, and wet wipes, the last of which I have plenty.