Omigod it's an invasion!

When I leave the fortress in the morning, I leave in the complete confidence that my house is untouched by human hands until I return. The holidays always brings the horror that this is, in fact, not true at all. I'm being invaded by a multitude of raving loonies all day long. Take yesterday......
I woke to the sound of the Small Fecker saying 'No thanks we don't want anything'
'Who was that?' I asked, amazed at the power of my own speech before the first cup of tea.
'The Avon man.'
'The Avon man?'
'Yes, I told him we didn't want anything.'
I drank two cups of tea before asking as to when we acquired an 'Avon book' let alone an 'Avon man'.
'He took over from Sharon,' SF replied 'and I think Frank is coming for the Kleeneze catalogue today.'
What is going on? My children are on first name terms with the purveyors of household cleaners and I'm still trying to come to terms with Avonman!
Please don't don't brand me 'Bad Mother' I do take notice of what is going on around me but it seems that there is an alternative dimension that takes over when I am supposed to be absent.
We were interupted by a another heavy handed knock at the door.
Not only were there six hairy hormonals standing there looking horrified at me in my comfy bed attire but they accompanied by a man with a dodgy looking lawnmower.
The hormonals seemed to know where they were going so I dealt with Lawnmowerman who seemed to find it incredibly difficult to understand that I have a MD (main driver) who also owns one. After shaking him off, by pointing out the numerous more-than-grassy gardens down the road, I returned to the kitchen to find the hormones drinking my best coffee.
Time to deliver the Big Fecker a slap with a wet cloth and get him out of the 'pit of teenage desires'.
'Your friends are here, get up.'
'Can I have some money, we're going out?' he says without opening an eye.
I know this trick, they use it all the time, it pops put of their mouths by rote in an attempt to throw me off my original rant. I am not swayed.
'They are taking up too much room, get up and get them out.'
I return to the site of invasion to find that they have polished off a loaf of bread and are working their way through the biscuit tin. I herd them into the garden with the lure of more (cheap) coffee.
The door knocks again and I am confronted with two surfboards. The voices behind state a plan to go to the beach.
'Good, wait there, I'll get the posse.'
Having got rid of them all I am then invaded by the phone. Friends, who don't work, see me as a lifeline to the real world and can't understand that to have a whole day off means much more than sitting around drinking coffee and chatting about the universe. I put them off in an attempt to get to the pooter which is by now quietly crying in the corner from lack of attention.
Don't they understand? My 'off' time is so precious, all I want to do is write.
Small F is rescued from pre-teenage hell and goes off to the cinema to watch Ice Age 2 with his oikey friends....peace at last!
I make for the office for some serious chaptering only to find that the cat has slept in the coal bucket and has left a sooty trail that stretches from one end of the house to the other. The door is being knocked off it's hinges once again by a madman with a clipboard and I still haven't thought about today's blog!!!