My house in Paradise Cove belongs to someone else. They moved in last week, with plans to remodel it. (Yeah, I know. And thank you for your reactions to that news.)

The day I signed the papers I had 30 minutes of sheer jubilation, followed by 30 days of sheer despair. I'd been in that house for 16 years. Big Events took place there, little ones, too. Life happened, as it does to us all.

The place used to belong to Otis Chandler, for heaven's sake. But Otis moved on without a backward glance and now, it seems, so have I. In the two weeks after escrow closed, I leased my own house back from the new owners. I kept waiting to hit bottom, to feel worse and worse and instead, I kept feeling better.

(Hey -- remember before I had to re-add the second bedroom to help sell the house and it looked like this?)

Packing helped a little. Throwing a series of goodbye parties helped a lot. But what helped the most was the moment when, after two insane weeks in the rental market (yes, stories to come) I decided to buy another mobile home (oh yes, stories to come) this one just north (it is north, isn't it?) of here, about 15 minutes up Kanan Road in the Santa Monica Mountains.

"Here in Malibu" becomes "Here in the Malibu" and I'm hoping you'll join me.

Need I say it? Stories to come.