I was surprised by how much it affected me.
The key must have jumped ship on Thursday lunchtime. I locked the office door, walked to my car, and drove home to my afternoon job. But somehow the master-key to the building must have slipped out of my pocket as I got in the car and rested in the snow beside my usual parking space. And then more snow came, and covered it up, and then the continual freezing temperatures kept it snug in its coffin.
I was vaguely aware that it was missing on Friday morning. Others had opened up, but I was aware that it wasn’t in my pocket. I assumed that it was lying around on my desk hidden by paper. It wasn’t until I left the office that lunchtime that I noticed it was gone.
An initial search produced nothing. Papers moved and tidied, drawers opened and closed and then opened again, colleagues questioned, car seats (on and underneath) and car pockets checked. Nothing. And when I got home, even more thorough and repeated searches of desks, drawers, chairs, windowsills, coats produced nothing.
It hung over me all weekend. It had to be back at the office somewhere. On Monday morning I repeated the office searches and questions, aware that the level of intensity was increasing, and aware of a whole range of emotions.
There was a sense of sadness. The key was attached to a simple metal horse key ring that a good friend of mine had bought for me on a recent visit to Kentucky. It is something we sometimes do for each other - exchange small gifts. Yes, I know it sounds kind of sad that two grown men buy key rings and postcards for each other when they are abroad, but we understand each other and understand the small token of friendship. I was sad about the loss of the gift.
The incident also evoked in me a growing sense of anger, reflecting part of the frustration I feel about my present morning job. I am a permanent staff member, but we employ lots of contractors who need to borrow my master-key from time to time to unlock workshops and stores. I try to remember who has borrowed it, but sometimes, when there are five people in the office and three phones ringing, the location of my key ceases to be the most pressing priority. I am annoyed at what I perceive as the unreasonableness of this situation.
There was also a heavy sense of guilt. I work in an environment that has tight security. My line-manager had to be informed of a master-key loss. He was pleasant enough (in the way that he always is), but I detected an unusual frostiness as he contemplated the possibility of replacing at least five locks and twelve keys. I felt I had let people down and was about to cause big problems.
And finally, there was real anxiety. I had watched a TV programme about Altzheimer’s disease recently and had begun to become very conscious of memory lapses. I seem to be struggling sometimes to pinpoint names and other words, I seem to be more frequently temporarily losing keys, glasses, and my precious mobile phone. My OCD checking that I have locked my car is getting worse, not better. Part of my work involves trying to help others cope with the chaos in their lives, and I was starting to feel overwhelmed by an increasingly uncontrollable chaotic force in my own. However much I tried to tell myself that I was just slowly ageing, I could hear much more strident alarm bells ringing.
On Monday lunchtime I walked towards my car, having made arrangements for someone else to lock the office door behind me. The snow had cleared, and in the sandy mud, beside the car I saw a lump. ”It’s the key,” I jokingly teased myself, not believing it, and not daring it to be true. But it was. And a weight lifted from my shoulder and mind. It was dirty, and the grit had left its mark, but it was there, and it was mine.
When I got home I smiled a lot, repeatedly played some music very loudly (Sheryl Crow’s “All I wanna do …” seemed appropriate), and relaxed with a cup of tea.
I lost a set of keys - for my workplace, too - about 7 years ago and was furious with myself. It’s maddening, embarrassing and very inconvenient.
Yes, I get really really annoyed if I lose something or chuck out a piece of paper that I later need. It wrecks a large part of my time - mostly frustration really.
I’m glad you found them. I thought the little gift idea was rather wonderful. I have a friend who brings me a silver bangle every time she goes abroad - I have about 15 but only wear 4 or 5 at one time. But I love them.
I worked with someone once who lost a contact lens on their desk. We looked everywhere for it but couldn’t find it. They were cross too. About three months later it turned up on the desk - just appeared. It must have been attached to the desk lamp or a pen in the pen pot or something and flipped back onto the desk. We all went out to lunch to celebrate. It was amazing how something so simple cheered everyone up.
Someone was obviously looking after you:-)
We are suppose to have guardian angels. They helped you find your keys.
Seriously, I know exactly how you feel. I have keys for my surgery at the weekend and I dread losing it. I keep it with other keys, so they are more bulky and with the car key, so there is less chance the bulk will get lost. I guard those keys and always put them in the same place at home. I get twitchy about when people use the other keys and then they don’t know where they have put them. I ask my family to find them and put them back pronto.
I have found this an incredibly moving blog, vulnerable and yes, why shouldn’t men buy little trickets and treasure them with love, care and personal value. I like your little horse key ring.
The memory thing is one which we can all indentify with. When we are tired, pre-occupied or stressed we can for get all sorts of things. Also, you had not forgotten anything but just thought you had. Your confidence in remembering being the factor here and not the lack of memory on this ocassion.
I am so glad you found your key and the relief that would have come with it for all the reasons you mentioned.
oh, one last thing. You don’t have dementia. The criteria is not that you forget, but the defining thing is when you decide to look in the fridge or the oven, thinking you will find them there. If that’s the case, you may well have a problem. I don’t think that is your case, so rest easy my friend.
An excellent blog and story about a simple tale. I can see why you are a writer.