Dear Lord. Ernesto is standing in the middle of his drained, crap pool, completely dressed in Adidas-wear from head to toe. He looks like an outlet mall gangster.
Over the last few days I have been watching him dismantle everything on his deck and in his yard.
I fear that the "Season of Ernesto" is waning.
I am not sure what this is going to do to my blog. I have some other screwy neighbors I could write about, and there's a kid, who doesn't belong to me, who drives me up a wall, but somehow, sadly, they just aren't Ernesto.
Ahh Ernesto, you've given me three great years.
Moles, vodka, techno music, late night calls to the police...how will I ever replace you?
I can't.
So instead, I need to close this chapter of my life and move on to new adventures.
I am thinking of asking Will if we can use Ernesto for a middle name for our baby but, I am pretty sure he won't agree.
So for now, I will simply say: Ernesto, thanks for the crap times. You made us realize just how great we have it.
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