I have come to hate the word “Password.” As in, “You have entered an incorrect password – try again, idiot.” Or words to that effect. For those of you who don’t spend much time on the internet, I think you are really smart. And a lot happier than those of us who send and receive emails, write and send pictures on “threads” and, in general, spend way too much time sitting at our computers, banging away on keyboards.
The reason for this rant, as you’ve probably guessed, is the sudden, unexplainable decision of my computer to reject all my passwords that I use to gain access to various internet functions. I have done absolutely nothing to rile the cyberspace elves who rule the computer world, but nevertheless, they hate me. I have a list of my passwords, since I need different ones for all the various things in my world that I need to access: the bank, the church, Amazon, the weather channel (which is a dead loss since it never seems to know what’s happening – predicts rain when no rain can be found, predicts sunshine when the clouds are opening up – but I still check it out, ever hopeful they might be right once in a blue moon)
I saw a funny exchange on Facebook (I think – maybe it was somewhere else, who knows?) where someone mentioned that they had no pets. “Then what in the world do you use for passwords?” they were asked. That was my first clue that I am not the only one who uses names of our pets, past and present, for passwords. I’ve used Laddie, Ivy, Seamus, Tam-O-Shanter (my childhood collie) and others, both alone and in combinations (LaddieandIvy was one that worked for awhile). I also went with Bingandmolly, Mollyandbing and TheFalcon, the name Bing delighted in using when sending postcards to our children. The list gets longer and longer as I have to change the passwords often because I am commanded to do so by the evil elves
I have dutifully obeyed every command, registering and re-registering new password combinations when told to. I assiduously write down each combination, since committing them to memory is a lost cause. The paper I’ve written them on has become so tattered and scratched out, there’s no way anyone can decipher it. Especially me.
And so, dear readers, I will continue to limp along, trying out different passwords until I finally hit on one that the elves will accept.
Meanwhile, you might send me your pets’ names, since I’m running out of ours. Never let it be said that I give up easily.
Life was certainly a lot simpler when I was growing up.