One more, once.

I've just walked back from across the street for the last time on a Saturday night. For nearly three years we've lived directly across the street from some of the best friends we've ever known. Many a bottle of scotch, a dog on a leash and a covered dish were shared in the houses on this little road. By this time next week we'll be in a new place. It's not so far, but also not so near to the lifestyle we've enjoyed since May 2005.

I hope to have some pictures to share. I'm sure they'll be more fun, tales of adventures at the beach and pizza and beer and other such fun. But I won't deny that it will probably be different somehow. But no need to get sentimental.

It's not like I don't have anything to think about. I've got to figure out how to ready myself and the new place for St. Patrick's Day, beach season and dinner guests. I guess I'd better get started. It'll be worth it, even if it takes effort involving a car and a designated driver rather than a hobble across the road in the rain. At least I can count on this: I know it'll be fun.