I think my house is haunted

I think my house is haunted.

Upstairs, my Study is the middle of three upstairs rooms. It had a really worn out door knob on it that I knew was wearing down. I shut the door a lot, though, because my most important things are in the Study, and I don’t want my cats getting into them and gnawing on them.

So yesterday I was pretty dysfunctional, wandering around the house in just a pair of underwear, and I had shut the door into the study behind me to mess with the computer. When I got anxious to go to the bathroom, though, and went to leave, I couldn’t. The door wouldn’t open. It wasn’t locked, it’s just that the doorknob would not catch anything to move the latch so I could open the door.

Man, I tried everything to get that door open. I used the lever on toenail clippers, a French curve, a CompUSA Card and a shoe horn. Nothing was working. I talked to my stepdad on the phone about it and I was afraid that the only option I really had was to call the one friend who has keys to my house to come over and open the door for me. After which I’d saunter out in my skivvies and say howdy to her and probably her boyfriend, too.

But then, when I was sitting there messing with it, doing who knows what, really, the door just sort of came open. I can’t explain it. I don’t even think I was touching it at the time. But it did.

Which is one observation to support the supposition that my house is haunted.