Poor PTSD postman
My husband works at sea and went back to work about 6 weeks after I had our first baby. He was away for 3 months at a time. I was pretty exhausted and, after a particularly gruelling night, was on the sofa, still in a grannified breast feeding nightie at around lunchtime. I fed the baby and must have dozed off. Was awoken by a ring of the doorbell, deposited the now sleeping baby and blearily stumbled to answer the door to the postman with a parcel to sign for. Duly signed for it and came by inside thinking what a terrified looking postman he was. Walked up the hall to put the parcel down, past the hall mirror. In horror, was confronted by the sight of my hideous bed-head, sleep-deprived eyes, gross, milk-soaked nightie and, joy of joys, my left tit hanging out of the top. Surprisingly, didn't get parcels every day after that. Can't think why...
(Lolopops, Fri 9 Aug 2013, 19:45, Reply)