Yesterday morning there was a Rogers bill in my Inbox. The charge was surprisingly low, so, thinking that nice old Rogers was giving us a break this month (LOL!!!) I entered my password and tried to log into my account. Couldn’t get in. Tried twice, and then, ten minutes later, my tiny brain clicked and I checked the return address: some email@example.com. OMG – I’d been hacked. Immediately my email stopped working.
Usually it’s easy to tell the fake ones because they’re so badly done with poor, often hilarious grammar. This one was a perfect replica, except for the return address.
Total panic. If there is one thing that is keeping me, all of us, sane right now, as we sit in isolation at home, it’s the internet – email, social media, our links to the planet. Yes, it’s also making us all crazy with an excess of information, though better too much than too little.
I deployed my secret weapon: Matt Shorter, my tech guy, who answered my panicked phone call in five minutes, had me immediately change my password, deleted and reloaded email on both computer and phone – and that was that. Saved from destruction. Beyond grateful. So here I am.
Friday night, Bill Maher had as one of his guests Justin Amash, a Libertarian candidate for President. I had to mute him. How is it possible for Americans to go on and on about the evils of government at a time like this? Their quest for individual liberty as the greatest good will kill them all, with their millions of free-ranging guns and the virus they’re determined to ignore. They have no curiosity about how any other country in the world works – and works better than they. Nonsensical.
But then, my dear friend John, who came over to repair something the other day, is an anti-vaxxer who thinks the search for a Covid vaccine is a plot by Bill Gates to further enrich himself. Makes me sad.
Plus it’s the polar vortex here – yesterday a sprinkling of snow, then hail twice, all of it vanishing instantly when the sun came out. But Jay’s garden centre down the street has started to open and I was able to buy three bags of fertilizer; that felt like spring.
Just to cheer myself up some more, I received Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning and am now reading about daily life in Auschwitz.