Swordfish

A couple years ago, I started password-protecting stories about my students so I wouldn’t get dooced, and occasionally I lock down a post about a boy and/or a dirty thing I do. My friends have the password. So does my dad, so he gets to read about the dirty things.

Awk-ward.

Anyway, I have a lot of friends, and I’ve made friends, friends who wanted the password, so I gave it to them. A person here, a person there, and it’s gotten a little unwieldy.

It’s not that I regret giving anyone the password—basically, I just need a list of who has the it, so in case somebody blabs, I’ll know whose bed to short-sheet. Or at least which 30 beds to start with.

So it’s time to reset. New password. Ready? And the password is—

Jk, you have to send me a message to get it.

(Dad, you can still have the password/read about the dirty things. Even though it’s awkward.)

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