Who packed the pegs?

A husband in graduate school with three small children in tow—that was life for six years at Indiana University.  We lived in married student housing—what Bob dubbed “the finest in institutional living”—he went to school and worked as a teaching assistant while I muddled through part time as a nurse, sometimes nightshift so that babysitting was minimal, which meant sometimes sleep was also.   Graduate student families are poor, by definition, but again, that depends on whose definition.  Our bedroom was so small, Bob said that if you walked in and fainted, you’d have at least 60% chance of landing on the bed. 

I somehow convinced the man that family