A cup of milk and off we go.

Having a woman share a room with my father at home is a strange thing...but I suppose that it's a novelty that wears thin within a few days. The house hasn't been this crowded since my mother unceremoniously moved out...and now I find myself coping with another motherly figure coming in, albeit on a temporary basis. I have to remind myself that she isn't here for the family as she is for my father; we owe nothing to each other. But, of course, I'll treat her with as much dignity and respect that I offer to everyone else I know...which is very little.

No, seriously, I'm an awful friend. Ask around.

I don't believe that young love tastes as sweet as it would be if you were rediscovering the magic of it all when you're in your prime. It's a big pity that the prime of your life passes by so quickly, and that each passing day is a step closer to the big cookout in the sky.

With that said, I wonder what they see in each other...but at the same time, I'm happy for them. My father sat me down once and told me his reasons. I wouldn't have bothered, anyway; it's his life, and all I have to do is try my best not to repeat his mistakes. I said try.

In retrospect, I had every right to dick on him about it all...I still have that right. But I think I'm pass that point of bitterness, and I'm more interested in ensuring that my own life doesn't end up into one big folly that his might've become. Score one for self-discovery. Everybody changes.

I can only pray that they don't do anything that'd give him another heart attack.