As I begin my final year at the University, I feel an undeniable nostalgia for Move-In Day from my first year. But, to be frank, I'm not exactly sure why.\nThe heat that day was downright oppressive. I remember sweating as if I were Tony Soprano and the FBI was searching my house.\nI remember thinking the dorms were similar to jails - only they have madras instead of black and white stripes. Like myself, most first-year students leave sizable bedrooms that they've had all to themselves for 10x10 cinder-blocked spaces that they must share with another person. I'm somewhat claustrophobic. I often get nervous in airplanes, in Bodo's during Sundays and in other crowded places. In retrospect, I am astonished that I was able to live with someone else in such a tiny space for a whole eight months - and even more astonished that we actually still like each other.\nIn addition to forgoing their own, personal bedrooms, first-year students also give up the luxury of having their own bathrooms. Now, they will have to trek down the hall just to brush their teeth, wash their hands or vomit after downing too many Pabst Blue Ribbons at their first frat party. And they better make it down the hall for that last predicament if they want to stay on good terms with the roomie. First-year students may also be confronted with the annoyance of having to wait for a shower. Fortunately for me, this was an easy adjustment; growing up, I shared a bathroom with my sister, who requires more maintenance than Gisele B