the inevitable day we thought would never come

And then there were two.

In one half hour, 171 Da Costastraat will house one less, and despite the advent to this day being stretched and pulled and questioned and batedly awaited, there is much sadness to it as well.

A year and a half is a significant amount of time to spend almost 24 hours a day with someone, give or take various forays away for business or pleasure. And the significance isn't limited to the mere tally of time, but what has transpired in that time and the directions life took within the span.

Not to mention the sheer, gut-wrenching, mouth-cramping laughter. And good times. Thanks to, I believe, mutual understanding of any number of life quirks, there was not one WWF Smackdown Blowout in the house, but there were many, many good times, the memories of which to be tucked away and conjured up at any given moment, as all good memories, to provide only the best of nostalgia.

It really is the end of an era: all remaining threads of IPSF life have now been snipped, all have found "real" jobs, and a new life awaits for one immediately, and all in the long run.

I need some Kleenex...