I hate this part

I've updated my address with the post office, the bank (all of them!), my school, and our registries. I've even ordered new return address labels (and got some extras with my married name for FREE!) and a new box of checks with the new address. Clearly, this is my legal residence. But it is not relaxing—the way home should be relaxing—yet, and here is why:

(personal image)

GOOD GOD THAT'S MY DINING ROOM UNDER THERE!

The picture actually doesn't do justice to the mess that is the rest of the apartment, because you can actually see the floor here. I might not have any other place to go, but this just can't feel like home until this crap is taken care of! So with a heave and a cough (lots of coughs... stupid flu), I will be tackling the mess for the rest of the evening. At least until D gets home, at which point I will happily pass the baton (after thoroughly washing my hands, that is).

Ah, the life.