So now that we’ve gotten all gratitudey … and eaten, I think it’s safe to possibly air out some annoyances. I was gonna do it yesterday but I didn’t want to step on all this gratituding going around, especially when it was so well called for, so necessary in such a sad, sad year as this one and not just for reasons of a pandemic alone. An Orange tinge hovers, blusters. Plus, it would have bothered my Mom as she was so enjoying my shirt and tie on our Thanksgiving Zoom call with her and my Sis. I told her that Zoom has a code of fashion conduct that you have to follow in order to sign up for their services, that you have to look presentable so thus the shirt and tie. But I also told her that that code didn’t include pants. She looked at me, with a wry smile, as if to say stuff it Stephen.
Gotta love getting a laugh out of Ma, who has such a genuine and infectious one, even as her days are different now, that they come with a slide. My sister and I, along with her had looked into assisted living places just before the pandemic, even found one that would just do. A just “would do” wasn’t enough though, I wasn’t a huge fan of some of the details. But then there was the lockdown and the stay at home and Beck took her to her house near Albany with my nephews and cats and a Razzy, the definition of sweetest of dogs.
Now I have written of this before but why not a bit of repeat? Heck, it is MY blog so why not? When Beck told me, as some pandemic time passed and while I wore the same pair of sweatpants to work every day for three months, maybe even four, my own way of trying to cope by being silly amid a scared crazy, even if no one noticed other than me, I just thought these sweatpants were funny (they were clean by the way, well, as clean as butt aired out every night on the back of one of my one or the other computer chairs and then thrown in the wash every Saturday can be) but when Beck called me on one Friday and told me that she was going have Ma stay with her instead of that facility I said “that’s great” we talked some more, I held in, said “Love You’s”, hung up the phone and then broke down. Hard. Puddle.
This shitty thing, this shitty ass time, this fearful adapting had actually brought some good and, in my world, our world, that was a huge good, the best of possible good. If not for it then Beck and the boys and the fur may never have had the opportunity to discover that having Granny around was a good thing and so much better for her than some place full of strangers, to help slow her slide with all the interaction and stimulation of a house with the non-stop action of a teenager, a 20 year old, cats who don’t always get along, sometimes never and with noise, a beyond loveable dog who adoringly sits on her hip and even a crazy kitten who garners a ton of “Bloody Hells!!!” from that English lady in the extra bedroom. She was finally away from the solitude of a little one bedroom place that, though she loved, was killing her.
Yeah, my gratitudeyness yesterday was that Zoom call, and seeing Mom in some fancy dangling earrings that she so loves to sport and laughing that laugh of hers and my Sis, in a Pittsburgh Pirates sweatshirt, in an our Pittsburgh Pirates sweatshirt, seeing the gang lounging Thanksgiving comfy in whatever spots I could see through Beck’s laptop cam. So, I held off on airing annoyances until today.
But gloves are off now Mr Gratitude you thankful baastaad! You had your day and your food coma now back the hell off!!
Passwords or security measures needed to be able to log into whatever account I’m logging into? Oh, how they annoy me. Not from being the understandable thing to protect ourselves and our places online but what some of these places require of them. I mean, I’m all good with setting up a user and password and being done. Knowing that I’ve done what is necessary for access and then leave be.
But don’t tell me, after some set amount of time, that I now have to change what has become a somewhat easily remembered thing. You can’t just take somewhat easily remembered things away for fuck’s sake! I’m getting up there and have 3 pages of users and passwords, trying to remember is not the strongest of skills these days.
It’s another thing I’ve said before, but I don’t want to change my freakin’ password, I don’t need to change my freakin’ password!! And it’s always for mundane accounts that no respectable hacker would ever try to crack. If you’re a hacker that can get some sort of thrill out of this mundane then I’m going to call your mother and tell her to make you find your own basement couch and a job. And It’s not from accounts that matter, like my checking or my credit cards telling me I need to update. Hell, accounts like that SHOULD make me periodically update them. Damage could be done at those places.
No, I get accounts like our payroll site at work, where I simply punch in and out, forcing me to change like there is someone out there who would want to hack into a site where they can see my paystubs. Look, if some hacker finds my paystubs to be worthy of an unwelcome look all the power to them. All that’s going to do is have them search me out, apologize and give me 10 bucks and a hug.
Or the security questions I had to answer to set up an account at the medical site of the place I still owe way too much money to for my time spent in the hospital 4 years ago or any of the regular health check ins. 5 questions? Really?!
So, the road I grew up on, my first pet, my first grade school, my mother’s maiden name and my first girlfriend are all coincidentally named Bob (first girlfriend would have been short for Bobbie or Roberta by the way if that had been the case). Answers. Bob. Howya’ do?
And the requirements are always way too much. A number, a capital letter, an obscure utility infielder from the 70’s of your favorite baseball team whose name you can’t remember, a symbol and a flower (though I like the flower one … that’s pleasant).
There are more annoyances on this post day of gratitude to list, don’t get me started on proper yielding, or a lack of such around the Mid Hudson Bridge that force me and BB to slow down or hard break when we shouldn’t have to, but maybe even these annoyances are a form of gratitude. I’m still sarcastically bitching about them aren’t I, still breathing to talk about this shit that annoys me?
Ma, you looked good, proud look dangling earrings an’ all and though I held off. I think you and I could share some stories of annoyances, at least some you could remember in the moment of the telling.