Madness in a Logical Context

This is my first attempt at the weekly challenge. I realise it's a bit overdue but I hope to get better with deadlines as we go. I hope the title explains all but just in case (for future reference), this week's challenge was to explain some madness in a logical manner.

It all started with a little key.

When my landlord handed me that little shiny silver key, I felt something inside of me shift ever so slightly. I stared at it in my palm, such a little thing bu full of so much power.

When I had originally came to see this little pokey apartment, I tried to weight the pro's and con's in my mind. To be honest, there weren't too many pro's to be found; it was dusty and cramped. Two tiny rooms with a minuscule toilet in between. A grimy kitchen covered in years' of grime, the previous occupants' belongings strewn about.

The only real pro as it were I could convince myself of was the huge sash windows facing out towards a small park behind. The trouble was they were also filthy and shrouded in black heavy curtains which drained the light out of the room.

'Well what do you think?' The landlord asked, looking at me amused. What I thought must've shown on my face.'

I signed the years' lease in less than an hour.

Sitting in a cozy coffee-shop nearby, I ruminated on my rash decision but decided it was worth it in the end. After almost nineteen years in a single bedroom at my parents' house and the last two years in another small cheerless room at university, I knew this was going to be the best I could afford at the moment.

It was in a fairly good neighborhood with a just a touch of the shady side of life with a lot of little coffee shops like this one and some nice restaurants. There was a feeling of 'community' here, the library was new and shiny but the local pool was pre-revolutionary.

So when that little shiny key dropped into my hand, I felt more alive than I had before. More adult, more ready to face the challenges that were ahead. I relished them. All because of that little key.

I picked up a little habit of keeping that key in my hand when I was feeling unsure of myself; when my boss had to tell me again how he wanted things done, when I felt a bit unsure of myself when in the bar with friends, when someone was weaving down the road towards me, slurring abuse at anyone passing.

That little key became my talisman against life. I started shining it against my thigh from time to time, to keep that shiny glow about it. I liked turning it over and over in my hand, it had a weight that reassured me.

One day, coming home from a particularly bad day and struggling to pull my keys from my pocket without upsetting the groceries, I noticed the front door key. This key had been handled by a lot of hands, it was dark with age and slightly dulled across the teeth.

I started some soup for dinner and sat down on my little futon. I looked around the room; I had tried my best to make the place my own. I had cleaned as much as I had had the energy for after work, the windows were mostly clean with a lot of streaks left over. I had attacked the stove but lost heart when looking in the dark oven.

This is my home, I thought to myself, this should be my little oasis from the world. So I decided to get stuck in. Before I realised it, the time had gone over the witching hour. I blew the hair out of my eyes and scanned the room. It looked better but little spaces still bothered me; the high part on the windows I couldn't quite reach, the dark shadows hovering above the old gas-powered fireplace that didn't work.

I was asked if I wanted to go for a drink after work with a few people from work but in my mind, I could see the mold lingering in the bathroom. The baseboards that were still dusty. I cried off in the face of their kindness to the new girl and quickly fled back to my home.

I spent another few hours scrubbing the floors and trying to find all the grim I could but everywhere I looked I saw more dirt. I sighed to myself and had a shower before jumping into bed but I lied awake, watching the windows flutter in the breeze.

I felt more cut off than ever before but all I could think of was getting back home and cleaning up. People stopped talking when I came into the coffee room and stared at their cups. I felt a sharp pain at all the invites I had turned down over the last couple of weeks.

But all I could think about was getting home. There was still so much to do. It made me happy to putter about my little flat, making sure everything was neat and tidy. It felt like a little corner of my world was ordered and organised. Even when everything else felt disordered and out of my control, there was this quiet haven I could escape to at the end of the day.

One morning, I decided I couldn't face going to work. It just seemed like too much too walk out that door – the world was out there, full of nasty surprises and disappointments. It was much safer in here and it had been at least a week before I vacuumed. I called in sick and decided to wash down the kitchen again.

Things went on like this for quite awhile before my boss took me into his office. I watched his mouth moved while he told me that it was inexcusable the number of absences I had had recently, that my behaviour was becoming increasingly erratic. I listen empathically as he listed off my list of offenses, both large and small.

And all I could of is how soon I could get home and lock the door with that little shiny key.