Don't Cry

I left the refrigerator open last night. Well, not really open, but ajar. I kind-of-sorta remember that it was open but I thought I had closed it. Apparently it popped back open. Or ajar. There seemed to be a pie that was stopping the door from closing completely. I have been making pies lately. Not necessarily from scratch but pies nonetheless. The pie that kept the refrigerator door ajar was a peach pie. It was delicious but not good. If it were good it would not have kept the door ajar.

I received the bad news of the refrigerator being left ajar from Chick - she was the first one downstairs this morning. (I should not have slept in.) Unfortunately I also took the bad news out on her. Yes, I shot the messenger. In my defense, I felt as if she presented me with the information as if I really screwed up. It wasn't my fault, it was the pie's. And just because I made the pie it doesn't mean that I am responsible for its actions. That's like suggesting that all the problems of the planet are the fault of God or Kronos or whatever star exploded five billion years ago.

Regardless, I did not take the incident of the refrigerator door left ajar well. This is my job. It is my responsibility to make sure that our children are healthy, our house is well maintained and our family is as happy as possible. Spoiled milk puts a damper on those things.

So, I went to the store. I got new milk, new yogurt, new butter, new ranch dressing, new tartar sauce, new orange juice, new cream cheese, and new sour cream. (Even though the old sour cream was already sour to begin with - someone is going to have to explain that to me.) I did not replace the one pound of no-longer fresh chicken but I did get a twelve pack of Miller High Life. When I got home, Chick told me that she didn't remember any beer going bad. I told her she didn't look hard enough.