Post Apocalypse

If I were not afraid of embarrassing myself in front of my friends I would take pictures of the state of my apartment post/mid move in. I love my husband more than anything that being said there is always one weekend a year where if I could strangle him and literally watch the life drain out of his body I would...that weekend is freshman move-in. My first year the wife of a hall director I stayed in the trenches, held up the fort and fought the good fight...literally- we were at each other's throats because to James there is no such thing as "put things away" on most days but I'd have to come up with a whole new phrase for the tornado that ravages my apartment when those mini vans roll onto campus. I walked into my apartment tonight (after hiding out on the farm for the past 36 hours in a desperate attempt to avoid the eye of the storm)...I opened the back door and literally started looking for some sort of jungle vine with which to swing over the junk that has accumulated in front of my back door...now to put this into context, I'm 22 weeks pregnant and have never been a slight woman or a graceful woman so tiptoeing through the kitchen for me is the equivalent to a marching band campaigning through china shop. That being said, God help us- the brunt of move in will be over tomorrow and I will have 364 days to repair the damage to my tiny apartment before I have to do it all again next year!