Last week, I saw a pigeon cross the street. This may not seem like an amazing event to most of you, but the fowl was truly one remarkable (and maybe even non-dumb) bird. It never once flapped its wings, panicked, or went around in circles. The damn thing actually used the crosswalk, hoofed it across in a straight line, and calmly went about its pigeon pecking business on the other side of the road. It was a true pedestrian pigeon.

Though my Midwestern ways may always smell of corn, soy, and Nascar to those who were born and raised in large cities on the coasts, I maintain that with training, it is possible for even me to actually seem chic on occasion. And so it was that on Tuesday, I managed to eat noodles with chopsticks, without embarrassing myself or creating a large mess.

I have decided to declare the remaining afternoon "Anne, Clean Up Your Room Day." It has gotten to the point where I have to become a meteorologist to safely navigate this 13x13 square, by forecasting the appearance of miniature Bermuda Triangles and creating damage estimates for the aftereffects of Hurricane Mess.