Strange things happen. My family has always been blessed/cursed with that sort of history. I’ve lived with that all my life. Today was just another one of those days.
Many people claim that writing is therapeutic and I am definitely one of those people. I have a hard time expressing my thoughts and feelings on a regular basis but I can pour my heart out with writing. However, I never thought that my writing about depression and the loss of my USB drive would have the effect that it did.
I was in a two hour meeting this morning where my boss and I were trying to figure out the extrordinarily poorly documented process of getting SSL setup with Windows 2008, IIS7 and Exchange 2007. I did a lot of pacing and leaning on the desk as we worked through things as there isn’t room for two people to sit at his desk. Inevitably at one point I started fidgeting and put my hand in my pants pocket and started fiddling with my key ring. I do that sometimes. Just a nervous habit I suppose.
It was then, while I was in mid-sentence, that I realize that I had something small and plastic in my hand and I was spinning it around on a pivot over and over. Another nervous habit but one that was lost when my USB drive disappeared. I kept turning it a few more times in my pocket while my brain started putting two and two together in a fairly efficient manner that was thoroughly clouded in a haze of WTF.
Then just like that I pulled my hand from my pocket and looked and sure enough – there was my little black and blue USB drive completely intact. Of course my boss had turned to look at me since I had stopped talking mid-sentence and I had to explain.
Of course the funny thing is that there is no way that the drive should have been in my pants pocket. It’s been over a month… maybe a month and a half since I actually lost the drive. I’ve worn these pants since then and the pocket it was in is the right front that I use most often. And these are not the pants that I wore the day I lost the drive or on the day before which was the last time I had used the drive. I had searched both those pairs of pants. And of course I had put my keys and pocketknife in that same pocket this morning like I do every morning and didn’t notice it then or even when I was putting the pants on.
But strange things happen. We were also missing a portable hard drive that we had backed up data to for the trip from Hong Kong. It showed up two days ago in a bag that we had both searched previously. Muse had lost her Nikon flash for her camera after just having it in Chicago. It showed up buried in a box of stuff in the office that had yet to be unpacked. Yeah. Strange things. It’s what we live with every day.
Of course this USB drive doesn’t show up until I write about losing it. It’s not until I tell the world that it went missing and how it made me felt and how its loss was a focus for so many things. It wasn’t until I opened up after a long break that it came back in the most impossible of places. So you see, writing is therapeutic for me. Just maybe not in the way I would have expected this time.