The perils of not having a dining room table

When I was younger and living with my parents, I would inspect every corner of each cereal box as I sat at the table munching on my Pops or Golden Grahams or Honeycomb or Froot Loops. I would count the hidden fruits, fill in the simple crosswords, and answer the trivia questions a hundred times in my head. And I'd do it again and again, same box, different day.

And then I moved off to college and haven't eaten at a dining room table since.

Tonight I sat down with the Fruity Pebbles box (there's a new color — pink! You can't notice these things unless you read the box) and counted the Bedrock denizens who'd turned pink, and the number of times "pink" was hidden in the drawing, and the hidden pink berries.

And it turns out I wasn't missing all that much.

But I'd still really like to have a table.