My Passwords

If you are reading this blog, it is the result of some sweat and tears.  Yesterday, after beginning some work on a new Google account, I inadvertently shifted my blogger dashboard to this new account.  It has taken me hours to figure out that I actually have several Google accounts and, subsequently, several passwords (most of which I had forgotten).

I know we live in a digital age when online piracy and identity theft are rampant, but personally, I can't remember most of the passwords I establish.  (It's one of the reasons I am a Luddite and still write checks instead of banking online.)  I do have a book with these passwords listed inside, but I can't remember where I put the book.  Every now and again I find this book that contains the passwords, but I can't remember what the passwords are for.  It's a quandary.

Passwords show up in some odd places, too.

Last week, when I leaned over to kiss my wife, she asked me for a password.  I gave her one, but she said it was invalid, as it did not contain at least one number and a symbol.  I remembered the number, but the symbol eluded me:  Was it $ or @ or %?  

Soon, I have a feeling that we will go to open a box of Hamburger Helper but will have to enter a password to turn on the stove. When the stove doesn't work, we will have to call the gas company and someone will ask, "Can I have your password please?"  

I have actually spent more time trying to recover passwords than I have creating them.  Most of the time, when I have forgotten my password, I am asked to provide the answer to several questions such as:  "What is your mother's maiden name?" or "What was your nickname as a child?"  It takes me more time to dredge up this information, as I always have to call my mother and ask her to explain her virginity to me.

I wish that these password prompts would be more transparent.  Why can't the prompt ask questions like:  "Are you wearing boxers or briefs?" or "How many cups of coffee have you had today?"  These I can remember . . . and if not, I can always peek inside my pants and remind myself to put on underwear (why I often forget this step is beyond my comprehension). 

The password police are everywhere.  A friend recently told me about a new safety feature on his car that disables the engine whenever he parks it, and it can only be activated by a voice password.  Good Lord . . . if I had that feature, I'm sure I would never leave the parking lot.