Hitting a Stud

I told Hunneypunkin I needed a shelf built.  After whipping around a tape measure and pondering the proposed construction site he said, "You'll have to hit a stud."  So I smacked him.  I thought something miracley would happen, like when Moses brought forth water from the rock for the thirsting deserted nomadic Israelis...but he just looked at me weird.  And that's not miracley at all, that's just plain normal.
God must have moved the moon into some rare kind of configuration with Saturn, the Pluto formerly known as a planet, and Uranus--that's funny because I just spelled anus--because only that kind of gravitational pull can suck Hunneypunkin into agreement with one of my evil schemes of home improvement at the same time as we possess the reserves of both cash AND time to complete it in fewer than eighteen months.
Makita, Craftsman, Black & Decker showed up to assist while Pixie, Angel Doll, Lefty and The Precious re-enacted their version of the Jurassic Park scene: "Don't move!  They can't see us if we don't move.  Then we won't have to help."
By some twist of fate I managed to locate some leftover paint so I could make my new shelf match the rest of the room, and someone actually knew where the paint tray and roller were.
Within a couple of hours my lovely project was not only complete, but cleaned up after as well.  It was unbelievably honeyful and perfect as if Jeremy Renner had starred alongside a sweet labrador retriever in a delightful Hallmark made-for-TV holiday movie about the redemption of a long-lost individual with a romantic subplot and a fireplace, wearing a comfy yet stylish wool sweater.
So perhaps hitting a stud can cause a miracle after all.
No animals were harmed in the building of this shelf.