Can you believe it? I’m experiencing a spate of insomnia attacks (if you can call “two” a spate). I’ve slept like a baby for months, even laughing in my sleep, but the last two nights have found me in here perusing blogs, paying bills, checking emails.
A little something is bothering me, something that might not even happen, probably won’t happen, something I shouldn’t give energy to, but I’ve never figured out how we decide what to worry about or how to stop. It’s a mystery to me. Maybe if I was more evolved I could learn to put the dam up and stop the flow. I’ll simmer down in a day or two.
Do you remember that damned Heart Bleed bug that caused all the bustling excitement back in April? Remember how we had to change a lot of our passwords? Just for good measure, I changed my bank password during that time. Overly cautious. That’s me. In the middle of my insomnia attack on Sunday night, in the wee hours of the morning, I signed on with the new password, paid a few bills and logged out. No problem. Then I decided I wanted to change the password AGAIN… to something I could actually remember. It was just to complicated. I needed something memorable yet subtle, something clever yet uncomplicated, tricky yet streamline. After some brainstorming, I eventually came up with the perfect password – wet yet warm and fuzzy.
So I signed back in. Not so fast. I tried to sign back in. I tried twice and it rejected me, scolded me, saying that I was using an incorrect password. I knew I would be locked out after the third attempt, so I dug up my password from the secret password hiding place (a post-it note beside the computer), and carefully keyed in the password. I’m absolutely positive I typed in the correct password. Like a shunned lover, my bank locked me out in the dark without my coat or leopard skin stilettos.
I filled in all the info to get a new password, but it told me that I was giving incorrect information. I had my ATM card in my hand. I was looking at the number as I keyed it in, but the site kept telling me I didn’t have the right number. I swear, in a Jersey accent, it said, “Who you gonna believe? Me or your lying eyes?”
I finally gave up and called the number. An automated, mechanical voice gave me a temporary password, and I eventually gained access and changed my new password to something catchy but indecipherable. So that’s what I did Sunday night with my insomnia time. I have been known to do more productive things with that time, but I was bent on frustrating myself for some reason.
I don’t usually keep my password to the kingdom beside the computer, but I couldn’t remember the doggone thing. So now I’m safe. By the way, my new password is OodlesOfN0odle$. I’ll give you the username tomorrow.