It is the end of January, and I have begun hearing the Ice Cream Pusher's truck in the afternoons after the kids get home from school.
It used to be common to have milk delivered directly to your house. If you were sick, your family doctor came to your house and did a house call.
Now the mailman doesn't even come to our house here in the suburbs; the bank of mail boxes are about a quarter of a mile away. I am developing a reputation around our neighborhood as a bit of an eccentric. Actually walking the half mile round trip to the mail boxes? Weird.
Our children are now so morbidly obese and so desperately addicted to sugar that they have to have their sugar fix. So the sugar dealer drives around the neighborhood selling them what they need.
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