October 19, 2013
I have no control of my space
bar on the laptop. It has to fall into some sort of illegal hostel takeover
category. There was a bit of something minute lodged underneath the key so I
swiped the slit with an envelope and then, jammed the space bar. I headed
directly to YouTube to find a surprisingly long list of under eight minute
laptop keyboard clean-ups, all which included directions that require a
miniature tool kit that I do not possess and never have. An eyeglass repair kit
will suffice as well and I do not seem to have one of those either. Suck luck!
Days went by and I was still unable to hunt down anything that would work on
the repair job nor did I find a computer expert who was willing to help walk me
through the procedure on the phone, like a MacGyver, utilizing a pair of
tweezers and snow shoes conveniently
hanging on the wall, to repair just about anything. Drat! Where is Angus when I
need him?
Low and behold, Taelor
arrives today and snaps off the key, brushes the unit and inserts it back into
place. Wala! She’s such a smarty pants, and gutsy. I had done my bit, tossing
the laptop upsidedown, sideways and banged it a good one or two times with no
avail.
So, lucky for all of us,
Taelor saved the day and I no longer have to create emails that begin with:
sorrymylaptopspacebarkeyisstuckandIhopeyoucanreadthismessage.
For those of you who are
wondering about Daejon and whether he a.ever got to jump in the leaves (no) and
b.want to suggest I call the school, police, CPS or send out an APB on his
mother (no,no,no, and no)
I will keep you abreast of
the situation as I hear of his circumstances. In the meantime, I may have to
stock mac and cheese.
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