Goodbye bats and ghosts of cats

So, two years ago, I was able to withdraw from the bland rectangulardom that was my apartment complex in Plainsboro and move into a thoroughly "unique" space on the main street of Hopewell, right across the street from a cemetery that holds its own Signer of the Declaration of Independence.
The "kitchen" was merely a room that happened to contain a temperamental oven and a fridge, and after the concerted of four adults, also a washer and a dryer. It was purely a utilitarian room.
The "dining room" turned out to be a coffee table in the room we used as a living room. The apartment is rather large, but the only usable space to put a dining table was in the main hall, a location not entirely convenient.
The bedrooms were sizable, and the bathroom ok (except the floor).
It was the attic that sold my roommate and I. Almost as big as the second floor, it was a perfect setting for parties, of which we had several. Also, the place allowed us the privacy to have such parties, as we didn't really have any neighbors.
We had paid double rent on this place and the old apartment, which allowed us the opportunity to move in over the course of a month. If I remember correctly, the first night I spent here, I camped out, setting a mattress pad on the floor and sleeping in my sleeping bag. Why I did that, no clue...maybe for the novelty.
Anyway, today I called my landlady, and long story short, that's that. As of Oct. 31, I'll be at an elsewhere yet to be determined.
I like the place, sure, and it'll have a place in my memory (it'll be strange driving past in the future), but I can't say I'm entirely unhappy to leave. Moving's a bitch, but sometimes, it's just time for something new, someplace new to stir the imagination. Besides, I made too many sad mix CDs in my room...I might just leave some baggage here.
The bats can have it.
* The picture was taken from the cemetery across the street (as is obvious from the grave stones). Probably the one time I actually stepped foot in there.