I haven't used my ATM card in years (okay, probably never) because I can't remember my PIN. When I got the card, instead of making my PIN an anniversary date or some significant number, I created a more-or-less random series of digits because that's what you're supposed to do. For protection. My PIN is so protected, in fact, that it is safe even from me. Because I'll be damned if I can remember it.

Our new ATM cards came in the mail last week, but I can't activate mine without the PIN. To change my PIN requires going in person to the bank which requires not only effort but also an admission of imperfection. I've debated whether I should even bother since whenever we need cash, Rob just uses his card. But I've always felt a bit bad about it, like I'm not a fully-functioning independent adult without a usable ATM card.

So today, out of the blue, the number occurred to me. Just...pow! There it is. I called to activate my card, unsure if the PIN would actually work...and it totally did. I'm attributing this to my color-coordinated closet - perhaps the more I organize things, the more uncluttered my mind becomes.

Now if only I could remember to water the plants....