Farewell, 1303.

Boxes in the dining room and living room, empty walls, all the kitchen wrapped and packed save for two of everything: two spoons, two coffee cups, two salad plates. The Noah's Arking was AMR's excellent plan.

A gray last day, rain coming, riding in along a big front that brought southern thunderstorms elsewhere but promises only fog and showers for us, and all this ahead of a clearing and cooling forecast for the week upcoming — a hyper-traditional North Carolina winter weather pattern.

Sound of wrens in the forsythia along the fence with Phil. The goddamned beagles barking overnight. Crows in the Chinese firs out front and in the big pines and maples in the yards surrounding. View of the back yard from the tiny kitchen window. Wet driveway, wet street. The way the rooms on this side of the house hang onto their darkness on days like this. This chair in this room. The giant front porch. The shed, the shed. Last night I went out there and packed the novel. Wrote 'NOVEL' on it. Then I wrote 'LAUNDRY ROOM.' I'm headed for temporary housing, but I'll be right next to the coffee maker, assuming we can find it after the move. There are worse places to be. That little kitchened room and the prospect of coffee on the new front porch on Tuesday morning has me feeling not so much melancholy about all this as nostalgic — it's not as hard to leave this place as it is strange, like wearing all new clothes or tasting some ingredient you can't quite place.

Light's changing out there, like it's either getting ready to rain, or we're going to have the sun break through a little bit. The gray's yellowing up from underneath. NOAA gives us a 90% shot at rain this afternoon. I'll give us the other ten. This is ANYLF, reporting live from 1303 North Elam. Back to you, friends and fans of weather, in the studio.