CLACK CLACK fuck CLACK CLACK CLACK

in me


My jimmies were definitely rustled

I splashed water on my laptop yesterday. I’ve seen parents take longer to react to a child in danger. Really:

“Oh…” *flip it over, smoosh it with a towel, rip out battery and power cord* “…fuck.

I stripped the Samsung down to its bare components, and laid them out overnight on paper. I came as close to praying as I ever come, because the Samsung is my lifeline to everyone. Literally-and I don’t throw that word in a serious manner very often. Skype, work, play, and a fair amount of odds and ends of files. There wouldn’t be much actual important data lost outside of possibly my Sublime Text editor (and other application) configs.

Everything else is mostly Music? Google Music. Documents? Google Drive. Photos and videos? Dropbox or Amazon Glacier. And all of that because I fucking prepared. Everything goes into backup.

Reassembled, the laptop works fine except for the keyboard, but that was expected. I’ve already ordered a replacement board (which will be in Cyrillic because I’m just that metal a touch typer \m/).

In the meanwhile I’ve borrowed a USB-powered Dell keyboard from the hackerspace. It clacks. Loudly so.



Happy Dissonance

in me

March 20

in me


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