Janet Street-Porter

Hello. I've had a glass of wine, and I've got my mouthguard in, so you can imagine me as a slightly inebriated Janet Street-Porter. Except without the charisma or pots of cash.
I'm bleaching my teeth whilst Hubby is away. I have to keep on top of it. Left to their own devices they (the teeth) gradually turn the colour of wee. Now I try not to be vain (actually, that's a big fat lie, I embrace my vanity), but wee-coloured teeth with red lipstick is not a good look. Hence the bleach and mouthguard. The only downside is that I'm not supposed to drink tea, coffee, coke or red wine for the duration of the bleach week. So it turns into a bit of a detox as well, which does make for a bit of afternoon grumpiness. I feel I really need a teensy bit of caffeine to see me through the school pick up fiasco. Actually, I forgot yesterday and had a coffee and a coke, so that's probably undone all my good Street-Porter work so far.
So Hubby left on Saturday, which was fine. I invited lots of little friends around for my darling children to play with, and although the house was trashed, the kids were happy. I wasn't worried because we have a housekeeper. But then, doom and disaster, housekeeper called in sick on Monday. Yikes. To top that, Meena the cook also couldn't come in because her roof had fallen in and she had to sort out emergency repairs. The thought of having to go back to doing housework just scares the beejesus out of me, so we have been spending as much time away from the house as possible. I have managed to do some washing up and put some washing in the machine (astounding that I knew where it was), but do hope not to have to do too much more. How much am I dreading being posted back to the UK in eighteen months time?
Other than that, we are surviving the absence of the man of the house. Obviously I miss having the news on the whole time, having to make the kids wait until quarter to six to share suppertime with someone who insists on adding notes to his electronic phone gadget thing throughout the meal, and never being able to get into the bathroom in the morning. I also miss huffy expletives uttered over where the driver has parked or how the housekeeper has ironed the trousers. And how I miss someone asking me when-are-you-going-to-turn-off-the-light-its-nearly-eleven-you-know just when I am getting to a good bit in my book.
No, really, I do miss him.
Although if he knew what I looked like at the moment, with my mouthguard, mouldy old fleece and slouch socks, I doubt he'd be missing me whatsoever!