My guard thinks I'm crazy

My guard thinks I'm crazy. I'm almost certain of it. I mean, he must. As he patrols around the house and the yard in the evenings before I've shut the curtains, he sometimes sees me talking and gesturing to myself while I sit alone at the kitchen table. Occasionally he's curious enough to walk on the front porch, trying to peek subtly to figure out what I'm doing. But how could I sit and talk to myself like that without having something wrong with my head?

If only he knew that I was not talking to myself, but to my family and friends in the United States, using a headset and a computer with wireless internet. I wonder if that would make him think I was more or less crazy, though, if I had the vocabulary in Kinyarwanda to explain. Honestly, I doubt it would make much of a difference. I'm pretty sure he would still think I'm crazy.