It was the 1960’s and every respectable housewife had her eye on the pretty neighborhood divorcée. Scandalous. Not to be trusted. And with three kids, too! The father’s nowhere in sight. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Wonder what she did to drive him away?
And then every day at around noon a milk truck would arrive, park in front of her house and stay for a whole hour. Does that woman have no shame? An affair with the milkman, how cliche. And in broad daylight! Does he wear a wedding ring? Yes! Gasp!
Keep your husbands on a short leash, ladies! This woman is dangerous!
My Uncle Otto, the milkman in question, came to visit his favorite sister for lunch every day. He worked hard, and milkmen have to get up awfully early, so invariably he’d fall asleep sitting up at the kitchen table. My mom would keep an eye on the clock for him and then wake him up and send him on his merry way when his lunch hour was over.
Sometimes a milkman is just a milkman.
(Image credit: thefabuloustimes.com)
The View from a Drawbridge 
And sometimes a Mother of three is just that. All that. They should have been appaulding instead of expecting the worst.
But it’s a lot more fun to expect the worst. That’s why people watch soap operas.
Always making life interesting…
I’ve always found life to be interesting enough without making up stuff about people, but I know what you mean.
You got me again.
I did?
You did,