Passwords Are the Devil

I hate passwords. I’ve had to change them so many times that now I have to keep a written record of which password goes with which address. It’s maddening, and if I ever lose the address book they’re in, I’m done for.

Why can’t they just let me use my same old password? I promise it’s me. I wouldn’t lie about it. Then, after so many attempts, I get sent to support so I can once again CHANGE my password after I decipher some stupid “captcha” word that looks like it’s written with a quill pen that is almost out of ink, or pick out a picture that may or may not contain a crosswalk or a piece of a car or something else that I can’t readily make out. Changing my password repeatedly won’t help. It’s another thing I won’t remember. Why can’t I reuse an old password? It’s not like anybody else needs it. Credit cards use zip codes for secondary identification. Why can’t I have a simple four-digit pin and my zip code to access my info? Who decided it had to take so much work to get into my own account? And why does he still have a job?

And who are these hackers who have nothing but time to try to break into people’s accounts? Get a job! I have nothing you want. Go find something productive to do with your time. I know a plethora of words, so that’s not the problem. It’s picking the right word with the correct number and symbol. Then I need to remember which goes with which email, and whether that’s the email I picked as my username. If it’s an email. I used to have a great memory, but time is marching on. I can’t just picture the answer like I used to. Now I’d just as soon shut down my laptop and take a nap.

adult art awakening black and white
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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