It's possessed. I've decided that it must be possessed. There is no other explanation.

Brenda complained about it yesterday...I ignored her by and large. "The garage door only malfunctions around YOU!" I proclaimed with utmost superiority. She claimed the door rose and fell of its own accord, which is just plain silly, you realize. In fact, I'll say that it is the silliest thing I have ever heard...and I've heard some pretty silly things. Garage doors lack the wherewithal to make the "open or close?" decision on their own. They require a higher power. If a carbon-based life form isn't at command, a divinity of sorts would be...and forgive me if I think that maybe God has better things to do than weird someone out with a garage door.

However, ten minutes after my aunts had departed this morning, I heard it open. I looked from the bay window to see who was returning. The driveway was empty. I opened the kitchen door leading to the garage, and before I opened it 30° the door was shutting. "Curious," I muttered. I cut a slice of pumpernickel from the loaf I made last week—the stuff makes for splendid toast—and as I returned the cutting board to its place with a thunk, I heard the dang door opening again. I pulled my lower lip out and huffed, walking stonily to the bay window. Empty driveway, irritated Laura. I grasped the doorknob jerkily and immediately heard the door begin to close. I released it gently, and tip-toed back from the door. After a moment, I jumped up and down dramatically, and the garage door opened. I gripped the knob and flung the door open to see the garage door begin to descend.

I opened and closed the kitchen door several times to the same end. I grappled with uncertainty, and the awareness of a ghastly evil: my aunt's complaints were actually warranted. This tomfoolery has fiendish roots.