Seriously, this house is little more than an asylum.
Last night after a couple of martinis and an absolutely BLAZING row with my parents over a misunderstanding about her boyfriend my sister packed her neon pink suitcase and proceeded to try to leave home. At half 11 at night. In her pyjama bottoms and a hoodie. Despite that fact that she had no where to go.
She got to the top of the street before I convinced her to come back and merely plot my parents deaths instead.
But when we got inside, my father was waiting. And another BLAZING row ensued. I seriously was plotting where my baseball bat was in relation to myself before he went away. Not that I think he'd ever harm her, just that he can really be frightening when he gets all mad like that. Because he never gets mad like that.
So I ran away, and sat on Sankey Valley and watched the bats for half an hour.
And then I got some soup from the chippy to have an excuse to have been out and keep their insanity away from me.
I know its mean, but even though when I got back they'd worked it all out and where friends again, I really really want to not be living here atm. I'm not used to having my movements questioned, and having 'privilidges' revoked at thier whims. Also their problems with my 'attitiude' are wearing thin, and I seriously will start to give them attitiude if thats what they really want- God help them.
But yeah, they're insane, she's insane and I fear for my self.
Ha, and they wonder why I never bring people home...