Please, give me a pass
I’m not sure which part of raising kids kills brain cells. Is it the pregnancies? The sleep interruptions? The mundane repetition of picking up toys and reading the same children’s books every day?
Yes! I had my baby. On Aug. 3, Miranda was born. I would have told the world, yet I couldn’t remember the password for my website. Almost six months later, I’m finally getting things sorted out and hope to post more regularly.
The password dilemma is nothing new. I have started a password file on my computer. Of course, the password file is saved under an alternate name — a password for the passwords. Want to know the name of the file? It’s the code word Matthew and I have agreed upon in case either one of us suspects the other has been replaced by an impostor/clone/robot. In this Matrix world, one can never be too sure. (It has been tested once or twice.)
Currently, I have almost 50 passwords recorded, and I know I’m missing some. This boggles my mind. I try to make them unique, but I’ve run out of ideas and there are clearly the ones I don’t care that much about hiding — my Southwest Airlines frequent flier ID for example. I don’t think I’ll be getting away enough to cash that in anyway.
Last month, I had to call the bank to regain access to my online checking account. The bank had forced me to change the password the week before. When I entered the old password by mistake, it automatically locked me out. Furious at what should have taken me only a couple of seconds to check my balance, I took it out on the bank operator.
“I can’t take money out of my account online. I can only check the activity. Not only do I have to remember a password, you keep making me change the password, I have to answer a dozen security questions, and I have
to verify the same picture of a hairdryer everytime I log in,” I complained. All I got was a lecture about how the bank is committed to a high level of security.
Remember “Super Password”? I used to watch that show every day. It was the 1980s, and Bert Convy was funny. I was so good at that game. But then, that was before I had kids.
