I think I scared the milkman.

A signed us up for milk delivery with a local dairy a few weeks ago - gotta keep the baby in heavy cream and all. Each Friday morning since, a quart of heavy cream, a half gallon of milk, and a dozen eggs have appeared in a cooler on our front steps in the wee hours. Even though our house is tiny at 600 square feet and the cooler is directly under our bedroom window, delivery never registered with me while I slept. Until, um, yesterday.

A was away for most of the week for a conference. I've been sleeping lightly, listening for the baby. I also tend to be an 'active' sort of sleeper. You know, the kind of roommate who might spring upright out of bed yelling, 'It's going to explode!!' or else go wandering down the hall seemingly awake.

Enter the milkman.

I heard the jangling of milk bottles out the window and in my sleep I thought it was raccoons or hooligans on the porch. So I sat up in bed, threw open the curtain, and in my best raccoon- and hooligan-scaring voice yelled, 'OY!!!' Three feet away through the screen, the milkman looked very surprised. I mumbled sorry and collapsed back into bed.

It probably didn't help that I hadn't worn a shirt to bed that night.