The Pain of Passwords

courtesy of hdsoft.org

Are you like me and have just had it up to there with passwords?  I tried to access a site earlier and couldn’t remember my password.  Thirty minutes later, numerous screens, error messages, and two emails, I still don’t know the password.  That’s 30 minutes of my life I could have spent doing my cardio work-out.  (insert hysterical laughter here)

When I worked in a cubicle farm, a majority of us would stash our computer passwords under our keyboards.  We all knew each other did this, but nobody said anything because, of course, it was not an allowed practice.  But it was easy to remember.  And, that’s the problem with passwords — only a 12-yr old can remember any of them.

I tried using the same password for everything.  That fell apart when some jerk hacked an email account.  I got the notification, panicked, and realized I had 70 hundred thousand million passwords to generate.  And they all had to be different.  And I had to have them in my head and be able to retrieve them.  Oh my.  This would never work.

I got the bright idea of jotting down passwords in a small notebook.  That failed when the notebook fell on the family room floor somehow and EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer, had a midnight snack.  Ack.

Next, I decided to embed passwords into phone numbers.  Disaster!  I couldn’t remember which part of the phone number was the password, or if the phone number was a real one, and ended up phoning some rather angry people.

I had heard about smart phone aps that took care of passwords.  I quickly downloaded the latest ap.  I loaded all my passwords into it, then gave it a password.  Guess what I forgot?  The password to access my passwords.

I created an Excel spreadsheet and put all my passwords there.  Then I thought it would be a good idea to print it out, so if I died unexpectedly (like from a password event-generated stroke), Devoted Spouse would be able to get into all my records online.  But the spreadsheet was too big for my printer paper.  I had to scotch-tape the printed pages together.  It turned into such a mess, I shredded everything and opened a bottle of wine.

There seems to be no easy solution to this.  I have a copy of the spreadsheet that wasn’t taped together. I threw it in a file folder to deal with later.  I just don’t remember what I did with that folder…sigh…

Feeling Like a Pinterest Pincushion

Saints preserve us…I’ve spent my day pinning on Pinterest.  If you haven’t heard of it, well it’s another bright idea someone came up with to steal time.  And it works.  It’s brilliant.  Simply log on, set up some “boards”, grab a “pin it” button for your bookmarks toolbar, and then go web surfing, pinning what you pine for.

Hours upon hours of my life today I can’t recover.  I am still in my pajamas.  It’s supper time.  I haven’t peed in I don’t know how long.  I haven’t eaten.  But, I think I have 8 boards now and a paltry 15 followers. I even added a Follow Me on Pinterest button to this blog (Gasp!)  And, while I’d like to continue this posting, I.Have.To.Return.To.Pinterest.

I’ve Pinterested and I can’t get up…sigh…

The Attack of the 80 Foot Gallbladder

pic from National Archives

I was enjoying a lovely breakfast of pancakes and bacon at my local Bob Evans when I realized I wasn’t really hungry.  Leaving half my food on the plate, I left and went about my day.  Errands, errands, ooh ice cream, errands, come home & read a book.  Pretty normal day for me (minus the ice cream).

We had a guest in the house; a guest who was like family, but a guest nonetheless.  I started feeling rather wonky around suppertime.  Wonky as in “If I inhale many more food fumes I will hurl.”  I made dinner for Devoted Spouse and our guest and retired to the bedroom to rest.

I thought a nice tv show might get my mind off my queasy tummy.  Turning on the tv, I landed on the Food Channel and promptly ran to the bathroom to hurl.  By that time I was pretty sure something was amiss.  The guest and Devoted Spouse were still enjoying their dinner, grrr.

A little voice told me, change your clothes…put on clean underwear…brush your teeth and do something with your hair.  I think it’s a girl thing.  A stupid girl thing because by that time I was all sweaty and there was no chance of doing anything with my hair.  sigh

At 10:00 that night, I walked into the kitchen all hunched over and looking a lovely shade of grey (no…not Fifty Shades…) to the horror of our guest and managed to scare the puddin’ outta Devoted Spouse.  I announced, “Hospital, now!”  The guest was concerned, Devoted Spouse was very concerned (and looking for car keys) and I was searching for a knife large enough to cut out Freddie Kruger (who I was sure was living in my belly).  It was not pretty.

Almost six days later I had been in two different hospitals, been sedated for a gnarly test involving tubes down one’s throat into the gallbladder (ack ack) and had a virtual munchkin stranger suck out one of my major organs leaving me with four rather painful holes and something disgusting hanging out of me called a drain.  (oh ack squared) (you may hurl now).

So that’s what I did on MY summer vacation kids. Even if you desperately wish to lose weight (I’m down 20 lbs now) I suggest you not try this.  It’s right up there with abscessed teeth…or maybe being run over by a truck.  Yes, the bills are arriving daily.  We’re over $22,000 at present.  Didja miss me?  sigh…

The Stuff Headaches are Made Of

There I was reclining happily in bed with my Darth Vader-masked spouse by my side and my trusty canine at my feet.  Life was good.  I was soaking up the latest Kellerman mystery, when I came upon a word that surprised me.  The author said something like this…”the apartment complex was shaped like a rhombus.”  I nudged the masked wonder next to me in the ribs and pointed to the word “rhombus” on my Kindle and said to him, “Huh?  What’s that?”  Devoted Spouse responded, “It’s a geometric shape.”  I said, “Hmmm, I thought it was a monkey.”  “No,” Devoted Spouse replied, “that’s a rhesus.”  “No, I said, “that’s a peanut butter/chocolate candy.”  This went on for awhile.  He put his CPAP mask back on and I was on my own again.

I used the little pointer thingy on my Kindle to space down to the word “rhombus” and the definition was “parallelogram.”  Well, now we’re talking.  I remember from 10th grade Geometry what a parallelogram is.  I read on.  I went back to the word “rhombus.”  I stopped reading and imagined in my odd little head a building shaped like a parallelogram.  It made no sense.  I leaned over the masked man and waving my arms to get his attention, I yelled, “This makes no sense!”  He un-masked and rolled his eyes.  I told him I understood a parallelogram.  “So a rhombus is a type of parallelogram?” I asked.  “I still don’t really get this.”   He got out of bed, walked around to my side, reached into the nightstand, got out paper and pen, and proceeded to draw a parallelogram for me.  “Aha!” I proclaimed.  “There’s no way on God’s green earth that an apartment building would look like that…it would fall over on itself.  What a stupid description!”

I returned to my reading knowing full well the apartment building in question looked exactly as I pictured it in my mind and not as the author described it.  Devoted Spouse masked up again, EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer put her head back down, and life was good…sigh…

Stop the Year and Let Me Catch Up

Welcome to the New Year.  I  am a few weeks into the old year still.  My short term memory hasn’t caught up to my long term memory and my short term memory, frankly, is falling down on the job.

EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer, gets a monthly pill for heartworm and flea control.  She should have taken them the first of January; I remembered them this morning, the 5th, 6th of January.  Wait…what day is this again?  Ack.

I’m working on a project that should have been finished at least one to two weeks ago to give me adequate time to prepare for the next phase.  Oh yeah, I haven’t started it yet.  I have a new solitaire game on my computer and it keeps calling my name.

Never did get those awful dents on my relatively new car pounded out…you know, the ones caused by that freak hail storm, oh, I dunno, how many months ago (?) There’s  a voicemail on my phone from the lady at the auto body shop.  I should probably do something about that.   Need to get rid of that phone…

Lest you think it’s just me, allow me to relay what happened to Devoted Spouse the other day…  We have been attending the same church for almost  7 years now.  We go to the same service regularly, always arriving a few minutes early to grab some coffee and chat w/friends.  Devoted Spouse is going to be volunteering his time at the computer check-in station for a specific upcoming event and needs to be trained.  In emails with one of our pastors, he agreed to arrive at church a little earlier and get some valuable OJT.  He told the pastor he would be there at 9:30 prior to the 10:00 service.  The problem is this church HAS no 10:00 service at our location.  He knew this and yet that’s what he emailed.  Now our pastor thinks Devoted Spouse is certifiable.  I felt better, though.  It’s not just me.

I want to speak with whoever is in charge of time and ask them kindly to hold things for a few weeks until I can catch up.  Then there’s that issue of starting fresh I need to contend with.  Maybe after the New Year…sigh…