It started a couple years ago. As I rattled off words on my keyboard on Sunday mornings, my buddy Dave would occasionally call up my brother and I for a Sunday brunch. I'd tell him he'd have to wait until I'd finished my latest rant, and then we could eat. We'd end up at Bea's, or Mannies, or Cameron's or some other breakfast joint with an apostrophe S at the end.

On a sporadic basis, the brunches began to grow. Dan started coming with us. He had a fondness for Cameron's (which is now a totally different place now). Spring started coming. So did Ryan sometimes. And Scott and Julie. One day, they decided not to go out for breakfast, but instead they wanted brunches at different people's houses. I was opposed to the change for one basic reason. I didn't want to cook. I just wanted to be fed. Like good understanding brunchers, my brother and I were expected to bring booze instead of food. OJ and sparkling wine for mimosas is still our standard.

While these brunches occurred off and on through the months and years, one thing got to be much more consistent. Spring and Dave started dating. As always when Dave gets a new girl, he promptly disappears from our lives. To say he gets overcommitted in new relationships would not be an overstatement. It was still nice to see two brunchers get together for awhile. Good for them, I said.

Dave and I had been roommates during the old college days, and on a couple occasions, we've gotten each other jobs. I hooked him up with a dog kennel gig, and he got me packing stringed instruments at the violin shop. Nowadays, the dog kennel is shut down, the violin shop is going on without either of us, and we laugh about the work we've forced upon each other. Dave's back in school doing the architecture thing, and I'm frolicking around in the bohemian lifestyle. This year, however, something else is different. Dave is engaged to Spring.

With school and a fiancee, Dave has been seen less and less. It's not that big a deal though. After knowing a guy for fourteen years, you just get together when both find the time. Even if months go by without a conversation, you just pick up where you left off.

A month ago, my brother mentioned in passing to Dave that a house on our street was up for sale. He knew that they were looking for a new place to move in together. Before the end of that day, Dave and Spring signed a piece of paper for a six-month lease with an option to buy.

Yesterday, we helped haul Spring's stuff and some of Dave's stuff into the place. Just like that, we have new neighbors. Even though they only lived about a city block away beforehand, they are now across the street. A house I never thought about is now occupied by a couple I've known since before they were a couple. At least I can just stumble back across the street from their brunches now.

It's funny how it can all come back around. It's like the end of Grease when they say they're all going to live on the same block, have backyard barbecues, and go together like shamalamalama dadiddydadgingdidong. A good chunk of my friends already live in the 87108, and now they're infiltrating my street.

That's what I get for not moving in eight years. People are starting realize my simple neighborhood isn't such a bad place to live. Welcome to Madison Street, Spring and Dave. I'll be bugging you for a cup of sugar and a bottle of beer before you know it.

Chris Jungle only moves when necessary.