Coffee heat rising

STOP THE WORLD!

You betcha I wanna get off!

We’re now into the lunch hour, so I can’t go to the credit union and harass them with the latest screaming crazy-making fiascos. What to do, what to do to fend off losing what few marbles remain to me while waiting to drive across the effin’ city to pester those dear people?

Oh! I know! Write a blog post! O’course! Why didn’t I think of that?

Call up Funny on the big iMac and…and…and…oh yeah. You expected a bear? It wants a password. I enter the one I know. WordPress replies f**k you.

So now I have to jump through yet another series of hoops to generate yet another EFFING password.

You understand: I have a list of passwords that is TWENTY-THREE PAGES LONG! And these days, I can barely remember my name, much less 23 single-spaced pages of passwords.

Problem is, the li’l Macbook DID remember each of the passwords in those 23 pages. So I don’t have a hard-copy list of the effing things. Right now I have a bunch of them, typed and neatly cut out of their sheets of paper, taped to the front of the iMac.

The prospect of getting a new computer to emanate these dozens and dozens and dozens of passwords just makes my brain go blank. I can’t even bear to contemplate the hassle involved!

I need to go over to Best Buy today and extract my MacBook and probably buy a Lenovo laptop. Ugh…how can express the ways I don’t wanna???

But FIRST… oh, yes, first I have to drive ten miles (20, round trip) in the OTHER direction to raid the credit union. It appears that a whole bunch of monthly bills that I thought were being autopaid are no longer being autopaid.

Huh?

Why?

Did I cancel the autopays somewhere along the line?

Why?

Truth to tell, now that I can no longer remember my own name, it’s entirely possible that I did cancel the autopays to the utility companies, probably for good reason. But if there was a reason, I don’t recall what it was, any more than I can remember having canceled them.

What’s my name, again?

So this is going to be a jolly trip.

The credit union staff apparently noticed, the last time some of my marbles rolled past the front desk. When I paid the new yard man $180 for a major cleanup job (the good Gerardo not having shown up for three months…), he trotted over to that very CU and asked to cash it. The boss CALLED ME ON THE PHONE and asked did I really wanna pay this character a hundred and eighty bucks?

Yeah. No kidding. He’s a nice-looking, clean-cut man…not the sort you would suspect of larceny. 😀

Y’know…I’m truly all computer-teched out. GODLMIGHTY but I’m tired of this hassle and that hassle and the next hassle, most of them involving passwords that I haven’t a hope of remembering and all of them demanding involved tergiversations to navigate.

You understand, I’m not at all annoyed about the CU calling to check on just how loony I was to pay New Yard Dude a large chunk of dough. In fact… One thing that would help to keep the Old Bat out of one of those warehouses for old folks would be someone you could hire to ride herd on what you’re getting up to. Especially what you’re doing financially, what you’re getting talked into buying, what you’re forgetting to pay. I actually would pay somebody — cheerfully — to help out with this stuff and advise. An honest somebody, that is…therein lies the rub…

Oh well. Time to get on the road. And so, awaaayyyyyyyy….

 

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