As of this morning the Not Unpacked Boxes Count (NUBC for short – the number of boxes still full of stuff that are sitting around the house) was 20. And that doesn’t count a couple still in the boot of the car. This is expected to drop over the weekend, when an unpacking and/or purging-the-junk-I-don’t-need frenzy will take place.
One box that did get unpacked pretty damn sharpish when it arrived yesterday was my shiny new ADSL modem. Unfortunately once unpacked, plugged in and powered up, I discovered that although the third green light along showed it had happily found its ADSL connection, I had no idea what my password was. A phone call to the ISP ensued, and after negotiating my way through the endearingly amateur-sounding prompts and waiting ten minutes to talk to a human, I discovered that the password had been in a (paper) letter sent to my new home address some 6 days before I moved into it. Where that letter is now, I have no idea, but I don’t have it. On the friendly helpdesk person’s recommendation I called the sales people and they were able to tell me what my password was.
So now I’m out of dial-up purgatory and back in broadband heaven.
Late. Don’t you hate it when you’re making a sandwich late at night, and the avocado is the consistency of rubber (because it was hard when you bought it and you failed to put it in a brown paper bag with a banana as advised), so you’ve got out a sharp knife to slice it up, and you’re tired, and you’re half watching the late news while you do it, and pondering if the conspiracy theorists are having a field day over theDavid Kelly thing, and you end up cutting a small but painful nick in your finger?
Yeah, I hate that.