If my brain were a browser, I currently have 47 tabs open.
And somewhere, faintly, music is playing… and I cannot find it. This week’s cognitive cardio event was switching from Chrome to Safari. Why you ask? Because of yet another fraudulent charge on my VISA. Nothing like a mysterious $60.63 from “Global Something Something LLC” to make a woman reconsider her entire digital existence.
So naturally, I decided the solution was … a complete browser migration. At my age. With new bookmarks and new passwords. Max convinced me using Safari would add a second layer of security for online purchases. I'm also adding 2 factor authentication to all of my credit cards. (I already have each card send me an email for charges over $1).
Tab #1: Fraud Panic
How did they get my number? Was it Amazon? Was it Chrome? Was it that one time I ordered compression socks at 2 a.m.? I use secure sites. I check for the little “s” in https. I am not new.
And yet. Apparently somewhere in the great invisible cloud of capitalism, my digits are partying without me.
Tab #2: Safari vs. Chrome — Cage Match
Switching browsers sounds simple. It is not simple. It is:
- Why does this page look so different and not user friendly?
- Where are my bookmarks?
- Why is nothing autofilling?
- Who am I?
Yes, I have 1Password.
Yes, I am somewhat competent.
Yes, I still muttered things that would make a sailor blush.
Tab #3: Identity Crisis
Chrome knew me. Safari is politely pretending to. Chrome remembered my shopping habits.
Safari is asking, “And who are you exactly?” Honestly, some days I’d like to ask myself the same question.
Tab #4: Decision Fatigue
Meanwhile, actual life continues:
- WLLO minutes and daily FB posts
- HOPE posts that no one wants to jazz up
- Seablush bookkeeping and website building
- Toe healing
- Grandkid logistics
- Amazon card drama
Tab #5: Neuroplasticity (Whether I Like It or Not)
They say learning new things keeps your brain young. If that’s true, I should look 42 by now.
Switching browsers at this stage of life feels like rearranging your kitchen in the dark. You can do it. But you will hit your shin and stub your bruised big toe.
Tab #6: The Dream
Delete Chrome. Close the tab. Walk into the sunset with Safari like we’re in a Nancy Meyers movie about digital maturity. Will it solve fraud? Probably not. Will it make me feel like I’ve taken back control? Absolutely. And at my age, sometimes control is simply choosing which browser gets to exhaust you.
If you hear music playing and can’t find the tab…
It might be your brain.
Or it might be growth.
Either way, I’m logging off for today.
Ta-ta for now.
No comments:
Post a Comment