I figured that I would have a few more minutes to get everything in order.  Get the kids into bed and unload the groceries, before Charlene returned from the gym.

The kids were getting ready for bed.  I had the car in the garage and was unloading the groceries out of the car’s rear hatch.  Then I saw the garage door beginning to raise.  Charlene had returned.

That’s when in slow motion, the car’s rear hatch hooked onto the raising garage door.  It lifted the car door up and then stopped.  The car door could go no further.  Then the garage door responded by beginning to lower.

Down a foot and the car door jammed in the opposite direction.  The garage door reversed again, this time up.

Down, up. Up, down.  Repeat, repeat.  An endless loop.

I tried yelling out to Charlene.  “Stop!” No response.

I tried waving under the garage door to her.  No response.

I tried pushing on the car door.  No response.

I tried pushing on the garage door.  No response.

One of my son’s arrived to investigate the commotion.  Nothing changed.

I saw only one option.  Pull the car further into the garage.

I jumped into the car.  Turned the ignition.  Shifted into gear.  Punched the gas.

I had only a few inches to work with and slammed the car into the garage’s plastic shelving.  The chain saw and bin of basketballs teetered high upon on the plastic shelves, but did not fall.

The garage door fully opened.  The car door shut just fine.  The crisis had been averted.  Somehow.

I approached my wife’s car not knowing what to expect.  She opened her car door and said with a laugh, “Only you, Dave.”

Indeed, only me.  Again.  Sort of like a garage door going up, down, up, down, up, down, again, and again.  Repeat, forever.  That’s the way I roll and the way I unload groceries.  Only me.