My PC was on the blink last week, so I went to the Lincoln Times-News office to type my column.
After visiting with all my friends, I finally got around to putting my old-age ideas on a new laptop.
I like it.
After catching up on all the gossip and lifestyles of everyone, it was lunch when the sentence about the trials of senior moments like losing car keys caught up with me.
I couldn’t find my keys. I had to have brought them with me because I came in the car.
I dug through my pocketbook because where else would I have put my keys. Nowhere could they be found in or out of the car. Back inside to trace my steps through the building.
No keys. So Laura Leedy came to my rescue. She followed my trail through the building and back out to the car. She found my long lost shades and some change under the front seat. Then she dumped my pocketbook collection making sure the keys were not hiding.
But no keys, so back inside where Robin Ledford joined the search. First she patted me down to be sure the missing keys were not in my pockets. Not there, so back to the car for another look. This time she got down and looked underneath it to be sure they were not on the street. Another sweep inside the car and all were ready to believe me when I said that my keys had to be inside the building.
Back inside the building and it was obvious that some of the workers were beginning to feel the unrest that was floating around.
Strange things have always happened around the paper. With one stroke, a computer can eat the lead story of the day, pictures can disappear from the proper slot and lots of sandwiches have disappeared from the kitchen refrigerator before lunch.
There has to be an explanation for these things. I am sure there is, but for now, where are my keys? I must go home.
I try not to do these things that old people do. Like getting upset over stupid moves. Everyone was trying to help, even offering to take me home for the extra set of keys. That wouldn’t help. I needed mine.
How was I going to get inside if I got a ride home? Guess where my house keys were?
The day had a happy ending after Sarah Ledford joined the search party. She pumped me again about where I had been.
I still said that two stops were all I had made. She followed the route and broadened her search. I forgot that I had stopped at the light table to read something.
It was like waking in the middle of the night and whispering a forgotten name. When Sarah dangled my keys, I remembered being at the light table..
Kathryn Yarbro is former managing editor of the Lincoln Times-News.