I try not to use it very much. Not difficult, really. However, with a friend I don't see very often, we occasionally navigate the process. I use the word navigate in so far as anything that involves a computer password slows me down. I am not sure whether or not password amnesia counts as an early marker of dementia because if it does, I am a lost cause. I hate passwords with a passion that I normally reserve for inanimate objects, like remote controls, that fail to respond to my repeated jabbings. I disguise passwords in the front of my address book so that should a thief break into my house and seize upon my address book, they will be flummoxed. The trouble is, I have done such a good fine job of camouflage, I am truly flummoxed myself.
Flummoxed. What a wonderful word. I don't think I have ever had any good reason to write it down before, and now it springs off the page, wonderful and strange. I love words almost as much as chocolate, or custard. Words, at least, don't pile on the calories. Think about the word, disgruntled, for a moment. If disgruntled means you are unhappy then perhaps being gruntled is a sign of happiness.
So I was very gruntled when finally I made a Face-time connection because my friend who'd waited in vain, for me to instigate the call, rang me. It was a short interchange, however, as my battery then died.
Thank goodness for the mutual understanding of obstacles we techluddites* face daily.
*I just made that last one up. Remember you read it here, first.
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