Invisible life of an aspiring rebel

My sister said two interesting things today, less than an hour apart from one another. You have to understand it is an extraordinary occurence for Helen to have anything of interest to say in the first place. So I am writing this down for the sake of generations to come.

The first thing my sister had to say was that tonight there is a lunar eclipse. According to my sister, a lunar eclipse is when the moon turns red and you have this creepy feeling you get in horror movies when the cast finds an old spell book and reads it aloud in front of the fireplace and they rise the dead and from there it all goes to hell. So, a lunar eclipse happens once a decade and only few countries get the full effect. That's what Helen says, anyway.

The second thing she said was terribly exciting, although she didn't seem to share my opinion on that. Apparently they said on the news that a satelite of some sort is going to crash tomorrow. I instantly started grinning like the crazy git I am, and suggested we climb on the roof to have a better view of the impending doom. The conversation that followed involved absolutely no reasonable thought and concluded with Helen making an L shape with her fingers and slapping it on her forehead.

I've been keeping to myself lately and my parents are getting worried. My mother is always on my case to get me to leave the house(to which my obvious retort is: and go where??) while my father is trying to psychoanalyse me. According to him, I am letting my bitterness and dissapointment towards my mother weigh me down. Well. Who would have thought?

You might think that since my father is NOT in fact a shrink (though I am convinced he was in some past life what with all the hour-long conversations I have been forced to sit through lately), he probably doesn't know what he's talking about. And I would have to agree. You wouldn't have guessed if you heard him talking, though. I guess after YEARS and years in therapy you sort of pick up a few things.
Which reminds me of my dad's therapist. Weird dude. My mother tells this story of how on his first appointment with him, he made dad go back and wipe his shoes on the doormat three times. I find the best answer to my mother's ranting is to simply wonder aloud whether it had been a rainy day and dad's shoes were muddy.

I'm babbling again. So, I have pretty much avoided getting out of the house for the last three months. Not that I haven't been outside at all. I just try to minimize my outings to a couple each week. But still. They're worried. And they're bugging me. Noone else is worried. Well, two of the girls from college might have noticed I've dropped off the face of the planet, but noone else has. Which is plain sad.
I just honestly can't find a reason to get up every morning. So, I don't.