What’s in a Password? Everything…or Nothing!

Let me state, clearly and unequivocally:  “I HATE passwords!” If only that would clear it out of my system!

What has my life become with all these ‘secret’ codes/words/messages/answers to  archaic questions that my ever-approaching dementia won’t allow me to remember, anyway?

A typical day in the life of an old gal – traveling where she feels safe in the far right-hand information lane, trying to survive with the fast, speed-limit-be-darned, far left lane people:

Wake up at possibly two hours premature to sunrise. Cat is jumping between me and Himself. When jumping becomes boring, then tries balancing on our lateral ribs. This cat should join Cirque du Soleil. If I can ever get their password-protected permission to comment on their website, I might just make the referral! Since I am in the established pre-sunrise fog, I cannot quickly recall the cat-stopping, shutdown password. Not to worry! The feline song-alarm goes off and I suddenly recall that it’s,

f-e-e-d-me_still#dark@don’tcare2014.

I tried a simpler cat password. All 10,000 were already taken.

Supposing that I should feed the breadwinner, Himself, next, I determine if the preference today will be cold cereal (Mr. Kellogg should be sainted, I don’t care if I am Protestant!) or (would you believe the NERVE) hot eggs. While eggs are cooking, time to make coffee. Does anyone else out there realize that it is possible to lock oneself out of the coffeemaker?! After weeks of consternation and droopy eyelids, I discovered that a covertly whispered, threatening word at the tiny clock (as if I haven’t figured out that’s a cloaking display) tends to brreak the impasse. Well, along with a large and powerful jerking of the pot out of the base.

Now to try to catch up on what happened in the whole, wide world while I was asleep. OMG! Who actually touched the remote(s) last?? If it was moi, then I know I need only touch one small green button, right at the very top of the light silver, older – not the light silver, newer – controller. If it was (insert very s-l-o-w, heavy-handed, lower register piano notes here) Himself…then it’s a virtual hodgepodge of punching not only the correct buttons, but in the correct sequence (kills me every time) and while my left retina (non-dominant, BTW. Gosh, I hope that’s not one of my secret questions!!) is correctly positioned in front of the laser. As you can imagine, this is in the top 2 reasons for marital discord. Oh, and then Himself wonders why I need new glasses each year!

By the time I get all this controller rigmarole straightened out, the REAL news is over and they’re broadcasting the ‘pop’ news. I thought all that stuff was corralled into one silly channel that only 12-year-olds watched at 1:00 a.m. because they could not sleep? Okay, maybe an occasional insomniac adult visitor! Murrow, Huntley, Brinkley, Reasoner! They’re all spinning in their graves!

The housework comes next. I have a Maytag dishwasher that’s about circa 1985. It’s used rarely, though, for the occasional day after a big day of errands or visiting someone in the hospital that keeps me from having enough energy reserve to wash that mountain of dishes at 9:00 p.m. (We both enjoy cooking from scratch – it’s a hippie-like protest.) Usually, it’s the dishtub and whichever bottle of liquid dish detergent that doesn’t have a digital, child proof lock top.  My mop looks like Whoopi’s hairstyle. And I use the kind of broom that witches use for transportation. I don’t care! None of them require a password! I hope I expire before them.

Never being satisfied with ‘well enough’, I  am drawn to the computer. It’s a love-hate, hate-some-more relationship:

1.  Sign on screen greets me with a cheerful, mint green color. I’m onto it, though. I know it’s a ruse. The heart of my computer, actually, is the color of mud. And it beats about as fast as mud dries on a rainy day. This is the only password I easily remember, as it has never prompted me to change because of some foreign hacker-spy.

2.  Today, I want to keep it simple. Just mail server and Facebook. Oh, dear! Did I not just catch on the first 5 minutes of real news that somebody hacked into an internet mail server? Was it mine? I need to look this up! Wait! Not without the password, I don’t! I type in my current password and immediately change it, regardless. It feels a little like shooting myself in the foot. The dominant one!

After deleting 9/10 of my so-called mail, I decide to look in on the family on FB. (Really, socially-conscious conservation group? You know of at least 3 global crises 24/7/365-1/4? And I highly suspect you SOLD my address to the political hacks!),  Uh-oh. Was there a REAL FB warning about changing the password – or was that a trick to get me to click on a subversive link that will shut down my computer and infect my dogs with diarrhea? Or was that infect my computer with spamarrhea and shut down my dogs? Might I substitute my cat? Change another password! Wait! Did I use this (not really new, rather, recycled) ‘new’ password before the allotted timeframe has passed? If so, those irritating secret questions will come up!

According to the first 5 minutes of real news last night: All we slow laners should take heart! We just need to write all of our  passwords down! On that ancient Papyrus 1.0 with our ancient, lead, ciphering instrument! Those smarty-pants Egyptians! No wonder they ruled the world!

Pray with me that those most ancient of dishonest professionals – thieves – do not hack into my home alarm system and make off with the most valuable item in my home:  That ancient papyrus! (And if they do, could they please leave detailed instructions on how they did it so that I can get into my home the first try and stop irritating the very busy local police with false alarms?)

In proofreading this article, I’m laughing to myself. I often crack myself up! If I can remember my WP password, and whether or not there’s been a red alert to change it, I hope you might allow a slight smile to be noticed on your features. Just enough so someone wonders what you’re up to.

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~ by saginawrobin on September 17, 2014.

2 Responses to “What’s in a Password? Everything…or Nothing!”

  1. I’m glad you found your WP password! The first time I read this, I was on my phone. (I get your updates by email.) My WP app has a persnickety Reader that doesn’t update posts for all the WP blogs I follow. Very annoying. So, I had to wait to log in on my desktop to comment; and then, of course, I had to read it again because it’s too, too funny!

    If you want to know if someone’s a writer, get them irritated. They never fail to wax wordy and hilarious. Therapy on paper! Thanks, Robin!

  2. Thanks, Rilla! Writing absolutely is therapy for me! Maybe because it fits easier into my budget than the real deal?? Wink, wink! If my readers wish to experience the craft of an excellent ‘real’ writer (creation of characters and everything!), then check out Rilla Z!

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