Every morning if I am planning on going out, I put on same face powder, look in the mirror and note despondently that it doesn’t appear to have done anything whatsoever to improve my appearance. This morning I realised that this may have been because the container is completely empty and I have in fact been putting nothing on my face at all.
I wish I had worked this out before my brother’s wedding. Now I am forever immortalised with bags under my eyes so dark it looks like they’ve been gouged by a rhinoceros horn.
It also doesn’t help that my husband (who has to start work early) is shocking at getting out of bed and starts his wake up alarms TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES before he intends on getting up, by which time his child (she tends to be his in instances where she is highly difficult) is well and truly awake, thanks to said alarm, and ready to start her day.
Since I’ve started, I may as well throw my husband well and truly under the bus and mention that in my own humble opinion, I think I’m coping with this continual sleep deprivation with great aplomb, a fact which I believe is going largely unnoticed by my darling husband. I am telling you all with great truth and certainty that if Miss Q were relying on Gregory for food and comfort on a never-ending basis, she would be in dire straits indeed.
‘Imagine,’ I say, trying to get him to understand my saint-like efforts, ‘being chained to someone non-stop for 6 months straight, and having them scream at you for periods at a time and you can’t even be mean back.’
‘I don’t have to imagine,’ he said, ‘I have a wife,’ and then he ducked well out of arms reach.
He says these things just to get a rise out me, but it didn’t work that time because I had already risen on account of his TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES of unnecessary alarms.
I am also aware that writing this blog probably won’t change anything, as Gregory doesn’t read it.
If you do and you see him, would you let him know I’m doing a fabulous job.
If I do say so myself.
Thank you very much.