I figure the title to this post would probably generate some interest from that portion of the populace that Daughter and I don’t normally reach.
So be it!
Simply stated, I am here to declare that over the weekend I managed to take the above pictured box o’ computer parts (Daughter’s much-abused laptop) and produce an almost complete and correctly reassembled machine.
I had my doubts and figured that my probability of success was somewhere south of 50%. See previous discussion here.
Fortunately, there’s YouTube.
Fortunately, the videos there all feature a “Pause” button.
Using “The Rule of My Father,”* I calculated that it would take me approximately four hours to put the stupid thing back together, since I spent nearly an hour and a half taking it apart — and that was weeks ago. And as I examined the IT Detritus piled before me, I swear I couldn’t remember most of the details associated with disassembly. Age and an amazing lack of hubris will do that for you, dear Muggles.
*The Rule of My Father explained: Take any task and multiply by three the time duration of the original estimate, i.e., “Son, it will only take you about an hour to clean the garage this morning.” Translation: At least three hours will be required to approach any level of completion.
Though I really, really attempted to be systematic in my efforts during this project, I failed miserably in segregating the multitude of screws that held the entire device together.
Basically I had some big parts that somehow consisted of little parts, and the entire shootin’ match was held together by approximately 37 miniature screws of varying lengths and thread types (don’t ask me how I came to know about that, please).
I will spare you most of the gory details, but my faith and confidence were spurred on by the words of one of my IT-savvy co-workers who said, “Don’t worry about reinstalling all the screws. They really overbuild these things, and they aren’t all really necessary.”
I think that’s roughly the equivalent of a guy at Pep Boys saying, “Your car only really needs three tires most of the time to drive okay. The fourth just balances things out.”
Or some such.
Suffice it to say, there came a point late Saturday afternoon when I definitely began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The Box o’ Parts was starting to take shape, by golly!
And then it happened. I tightened the final screw on the bottom of the laptop, and I was done!
I only had five really tiny screws left over. They couldn’t be that vital, could they?
Success! Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition! I Be Special!
Of course, that feeling lasted approximately five nanoseconds; maybe shorter.
Because when I flipped the laptop over, the keyboard promptly fell off.
“Hewlett-Packard. We have a problem.”
Addressing this issue required retracing my last seven steps and basically taking apart most of the machine’s base.
You see, I discovered I needed the really long screws to secure the keyboard, and they were already buried somewhere else in the bowels of mechanism. Fortunately, I found them soon enough, but still couldn’t really place where the other five “extra” leftover screws came into play.
Next step: Power.
I plugged the beast in, hit the “On” switch, and held my breath.
Wouldn’t you know it? It booted right up and everything worked.
CPU Thermal Paste? I laugh at you, even though I don’t know what you really do and why I smeared some of you on a copper plate next to a circuit board.
I got to thinking, “Hey, there’s not much I can’t do, really. If I can put this thing together, then the world is my oyster.”
Then I received the first report back from Daughter: “Hey, Dad, the keyboard seems to keep falling out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied. “It just needs a longer screw. Just keep it level, and I’ll figure it out in a few days.”
I do not intend to grasp defeat from the jaws of victory, so my story for now is, it works.
And, once again, I’ve prevented dogs and cats sleeping together. You know: mass hysteria.
World Order has been maintained.
Using those terms to describe fixing my kid’s computer?
Age and an amazing lack of hubris will do that for you, dear Muggles.