Memory. That Cheeky Little Beast

Last week, as I was having lunch with colleagues, I got a "missed call" notification. The name on my phone display was that of a sewer cleaning company. I called back and the lady told me they were doing work in my building and needed to gain access to my cellar compartment where they suspected a leaking pipe ran through. I told her that, no, I did not even own such a compartment and had no idea who was using the one with my door number on it. 

I moved into my apartment 19 years ago and while the real estate agent had answered my question for storage space in the basement with "you have to ask the janitor for keys", it turned out that there was none left and the cellar was a rather off-putting, almost scary space with earth floor and wooden partitions and doors that came off their hinges. 

The evening after that phone call I suddenly remembered. Wait, I did get a cubicle after the janitor cleared away stuff she had apparently dumped in one. My ex-boyfriend and I stored some packaging there as far as I could remember, but I had not been back since. I dimly remembered buying a padlock. I came home late that night and did not feel like an expedition into the dimly lit cellar where rats or other creatures might be having a midnight feast.

On Friday, I was working at home, waiting for my dishwasher delivery (HALLELUJAH, after some inevitable problems, that mission got completed) when I opened my key-cabinet rummaging among the random keys that I could not remember what they were orignally for, for one that looked like opening a padlock. I eventually went downstairs, entering a part of my building I had been in for about 17 years...or so I thought anyway. It was rather brightly lit and I started lookning for my cubicle that I remembered being right next to the staircase. Except it wasn't. I could have SWORN that it was to the left of the door. A door I didn't remember either, but where the same key that opened our street door, fitted. All in all, that cellar looked different from what I remembered. I eventually found a cubicle with a metal (!) door that one of my "random" keys opened and found some objects in it (all wrapped in plastic) and a wine-rack with a single bottle of red wine that I don't remember putting there either. When did all this happen?! I rang the company again and told them I would leave the door open and yes, there was indeed some leak, it seemed.

I was reminded of the many times I was shocked that people had a completely different recollection of an event that I was witness to myself (or at least they claimed they did) and also of a book I have had in my Amazon wishlist for a long time. So THIS is how it happens! I'd have sworn an oath in court or at gunpoint that I did not own a cellar compartment with a metal door...