We're mid-move (at least in the sense of having closed on our house, ordered appliances, and spent four straight days painting; no actual furniture has crossed either threshold), and as usual I'm half enjoying the endless series of change-of-address notifications that I have to fill out or call in. Each of the five moves I've made since I was eighteen has coincided with a major life change, so even the hassles of moving have always been colored by a sense of newness and anticipation.
With this particular move I'm also adding someone else's name as I update my addresses. And upgrading to a dual museum membership and having both of our names on the utility bill and magazine subscriptions makes the home-buying and the married-getting feel much more real. There our names are together, in print!
I'm keeping my name when we get married, and I have quite strong feelings about that choice. However, the new-life-stage pleasure of writing our names and shared address together makes me understand one reason why so many women are so eager to take their spouse's name.