Spring Cleaning

One advantage to living on a bluff along a river: the eagles have landed. This picture? Taken right from the Matronly balcony (she's JUST like Juliet in so many ways). For the past three years, winter marks its end with the eagles' return. They nest just down the street from the Matron and produce two to three adorable eaglets a year.

Their nest, big as a child's wading pool, is a tourist attraction.

The Matron doesn't have to walk down the block to snap her pictures. This tree is their second favorite spot in the 'hood -- a tremendous cottonwood visible throughout the city. Just find the tallest tree on the eastern landscape and it's hers. Not really. Nobody owns this beauty.

And every day, the Matron watches two eagles circle through her yard. Possibly scoping out Satan's Familiar as supper, but well, who is she to mess with Mother Nature?

Completely overcome by all this evidence of spring -- thundering cottonwoods, thawing yard, sprouting greens, nesting eagles -- you name it, it's growing or melting -- put yours truly in a March sort of mood, as in Spring Cleaning.

Given her extensive online life, she thought she would start with electronics. Why get all exhausted scrubbing walls when you can cozy up to the computer (with cookies and coffee) and still clean?!!

Specifically, the Matron was bothered by a vague, back-of-the-mind awareness of online accounts trailing in her wake, of computer files stored with the exact same system she uses for socks called "toss in drawer and shut tight."

So she poured that coffee and raided the chocolate chip cookie stash, settled in all comfy and confident. By lunchtime, her computer would be pristine! Accounts ordered, files stored, projects organized-spring season off to a sturdy start!

Lo and behold, the Matron found 67 accounts trailing in her wake.

Weebly? Dvolver? Anyone know how to use these? Sixty-seven accounts with a staggering array of user names and passwords, meaningless deceptions meant to trip up hackers (like there's a legion lined up to get her) that only made her task, well, unpleasant to impossible.

Utterly defeated --and without passwords for a few vital entities, including the dusty Matronly facebook account -- she turned instead to her computer files.

There are 17,512, not counting system files.

Wait!? What's that? Uh . . . excuse her. Those dirty walls are calling.