Got rid of the microblog page. It was honestly kind of redundant towards things I could just be including in regular entries. Plus it was just more shit to maintain, and one of the larger aspects of this for me is simplicity, so I don't have to juggle 50 things.

We watched Fire Walk With Me. Well, I watched Fire Walk With Me. He fell asleep. Understandably, because he's seen it a ton of times, and he was tired as shit.
I liked it. It got a little... pornographic for my taste, but it was good all the same. Granted, I could only understand so much because I haven't seen most of Twin Peaks itself, something he wants to watch with me at some point. I mostly just know what he's told me about it.

We drank a lot on Wednesday night and I was hung over as dog shit. It's my own fucking fault. I should have stopped after I'd had two Stumbleberries, which are tall and 9%, but... here we are. I've never been good at learning from my own mistakes. Other people's? Sure. Mine? -Fuck- no.

We went to visit his family on Thursday. The rain was overwhelming at times. Flash flood warnings all over the place. On the way there, it was bad, but coming back, it was worse. He considered stopping because of the lack of visibility, but we didn't. Probably for the better, because who knows if the exits we could have taken would have been or already were flooded or not.
One of the areas within our warning range got one for "catastrophic" damage. I've never seen that specific wording before, not in a weather alert anyway. And I have seen a -ton- of flood warnings over the years. We used to get a flood every couple years while I grew up. It was something I just grew accustomed to.
Floods are also a reason I am going to try to live on a hill if at all possible, as often as I can. My friend used to get her basement flooded all the time by rain when we were kids. I want no fucking part of that risk, to myself or my things.

Water was also gushing up from beneath the manhole coverings while we were driving back home. He drove through some water that he admitted was kind of stupid, and that he should have gone around, but it didn't kill his car, so whatever works.

He's pretty torn up about everything that's going on. It just sucks. It's inevitable, but it sucks.
I've been trying my damnedest to avoid talking too much about my own experience with my Dad dying unless he specifically asks, because I don't want it to feel like I'm trying to commandeer the situation to talk about my personal issues. I just don't really know what to do other than telling him, yeah, it's going to feel like shit and it's not going to be an easy time, because it isn't. I'm still bad at handling it, and it's been about a decade.
It's going to wreck his soul, but there's nothing he can do about it, and there's nothing I can do about it, much as I wish I could.

But I'm done with this entry.