We’ve been through 14 episodes of house drama, personal crisis and growth, multiple dinners at Buca di Beppo, one visit to the ER, and enough Wicked Liquid to scar a lifetime of memories. And it all happened within a four-block radius of the now infamous Dupont Circle townhouse, spare the stray trip to one or two other spots in our fair city.

I couldn’t be happier it’s over. No, really — I’m spent. It’s amazing that such an absolute lack of content can be so mentally draining. So I’m packing up and hitting the road, with nothing but my thoughts and Wicked Liquid on the iPod. It’s been real, D.C.

After the jump, the last bullet-pointed recap you’ll ever read. Unless you want to, you know, read them all from the beginning. I dare you.