![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
It occurred to me yesterday that various orders placed over the past ten days seem to have all shipped at approximately the same time, which is going to make Thursday and Friday pretty busy, package-wise.
In other news, three years ago, I bought a program called USB Secure. I apparently fired it up and entered an access password to the program, which I apparently did not write down anywhere. I asked the publisher how to go about resetting the password, a response dropped into my inbox just after midnight, which suggests the writer is either a night person or lives in Europe, but the instructions therein didn't work, possibly because they assume I registered the product with the publisher, and I'm pretty sure I did no such thing.
In reviewing the program's documentation and the publisher's web site, it would appear to be impossible to register as a user without having gotten "into" the program (using the password, naturally). So, I sent another inquiry. Unfortunately, it would appear that there's nobody home at the company's premises during the day (phone calls go to voice mail) and the "chat" feature on the web site shows "offline" all the time.
If it wasn't for the response to my initial question, I'd grade the company as "F" for customer service.
In other news, I woke up with some kind of problem with the calf muscle in my left leg, which has found me limping around the house (and during my walk). Annoying as buttercups.
At the urging of an acquaintance, I started reading Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy. It is not the easiest text to wade through.
In other news, three years ago, I bought a program called USB Secure. I apparently fired it up and entered an access password to the program, which I apparently did not write down anywhere. I asked the publisher how to go about resetting the password, a response dropped into my inbox just after midnight, which suggests the writer is either a night person or lives in Europe, but the instructions therein didn't work, possibly because they assume I registered the product with the publisher, and I'm pretty sure I did no such thing.
In reviewing the program's documentation and the publisher's web site, it would appear to be impossible to register as a user without having gotten "into" the program (using the password, naturally). So, I sent another inquiry. Unfortunately, it would appear that there's nobody home at the company's premises during the day (phone calls go to voice mail) and the "chat" feature on the web site shows "offline" all the time.
If it wasn't for the response to my initial question, I'd grade the company as "F" for customer service.
In other news, I woke up with some kind of problem with the calf muscle in my left leg, which has found me limping around the house (and during my walk). Annoying as buttercups.
At the urging of an acquaintance, I started reading Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy. It is not the easiest text to wade through.
Only now is the child finally divested of all that he has been. His origins are become remote as is his destiny and not again in all the world's turning will there be terrains so wild and barbarous to try whether the stuff of creation may be shaped to man's will or whether his own heart is not another kind of clay.Not all of McCarthy's sentences are that long; in fact, most are quite short and deliver their meaning in the form of verbal rabbit punches.
The passengers are a diffident lot. They cage their eyes and no man asks another what it is that brings him here. He sleeps on the deck, a pilgrim among others. He watches the dim shore rise and fall. Gray seabirds gawking. Flights of pelicans coastwise above the gray swells.This style is not conducive to running across a lot of commas. By comparison, Astolph de Custine's Letters from Russia is downright breezy in its exposition.
