Sunshiny Day!

It was a sunshiny day.  The birds were singing.  The butterflies were butter-flying.  A rainbow danced across the sky.  The universe self-corrected.  The SJG did my signature happy dance, a complicated series of interpretative leaps, swivels, hip moves and booty shaking, PG 13, of course.  I flashed the jazz hands.  I rejoiced.  "The fridge is fixed!  The fridge is fixed!"  In celebration, I went to the market to replace all the sh*t I'd thrown out during the Arctic Freeze.  Yes, life had returned to normal.  I love when that happens!  This morning, the birds stopped tweeting.  (See what I did there?  I know, right!)  The butterflies took leave. The rainbow evaporated.  The universe said ha, ha, just kidding.  The fridge is eff'd up again.  Eff'd up!  Again! The milk is slushy.  The half-and-half iffy.  Anyone want a beer-flavored popsicle?  Poor hubby.  He was so thrilled about the rapport he developed yesterday with Sahid, the repair guy from Sears.  Hubby so wanted to believe Sahid when he told us the door to the ice maker on our year-old fridge wasn't properly shut and that caused things to freeze up.  "Really?" I said.  "You don't believe me?" asked Sahid.  "Well," I said, "I want to, I do."  "I'm telling the truth," Sahid said.  Hubby went with it.  This, in itself, is a miracle because hubby would've been the only one to open and shut the door to the ice maker.  It's a manly job.  The SJG doesn't go there.  So if the door to the ice maker hadn't been properly shut, that means one thing.  The SJG wasn't the one to eff up the fridge!  I loved when that happens!  And yet, on the eve of my 32nd wedding anniversary, did I rub that in, point fingers and guffaw?  What?  You don't think I've learned a few things over the last 32 years?  All I did was squint and look perplexed.  Because there's no way hubby didn't close the ice maker door.  You hear a click when you shut it.  Hubby's all about the click.  He's conducted lectures on the subject.  But it was fun for a minute to think he caused the problem.  I love when that happens.  It's so rare.  And, in this case, not true.  Clearly, something else is eff'ing with the year-old fridge.  Sahid is on his way over right now.  Don't worry, I'll be nice.  I'll only cackle for a minute or two and then say, "Welcome back, Sahid!  Would you care for a beer popsicle or a milk slushy?"