This post has nothing to do with Mr. Darcy, but since I can't think of any image to go with it, well... I like looking at him and now he's way down on my page.
I am back online after being incommunicado all day Sunday and most of today.
My laptop, the machine I always use, had been rather asthmatic for a while. It was making some noises - like a wheezing of sorts and some grinding and groaning every now and then. I ignored its cries for help - until yesterday morning - when it made such a horrible screech upon powering it up that I thought the whole thing might break apart. I immediately reached for the power-off button. I waited a bit and tried again. Maybe it was a freak thing and whatever the problem was had magically gone away. Right. It was worse.
Oh Lordy! No 'puter, no Internet, no nothing. I had work to do, blogs to read, emails to ignore! What to do? And with no access to the Internet, how could I search for a clue? I was completely and utterly on my own. I am not a hardware type. Like most women, I just want the thing to work so I can go about doing what I want to do. You know, the same attitude they have about their men... But, unlike most women, I will take things apart when they don't work, hoping that something obvious will present itself. Starting out without a clue, but then with much study, patience, and stubbornness, I will often find the problem and repair it. I have surprised myself at how many things I've been able to fix. Stubbornness can be a virtue.
Having nothing to lose, I turned the thing over and started it up so I could at least locate where the screams were originating from. Aha! It appeared that the injured party was a fan. But to get to it I had to unscrew all these tiny little screws holding the cover in place. I tried everything - tweezers, knives, all sorts of pointy objects - a corn on the cob holder, tiny appetizer swords, various manicuring tools, etc. Dammit. I turned the house and garage upside down. Then at last I stumbled upon an eyeglass repair kit containing the cutest little screwdriver you ever saw.
Like a mad woman I rushed back to the table, teeny screwdriver in hand. I was determined to get a look at that fan and no frickin wee screws were going to stop me. The screwdriver head fit into the tiny groove! Yeah! My glee was short-lived as I couldn't get enough torque on it to budge a single one. Arrghhh! Having watched Cousin work on cars, I remembered something. I grabbed a pair of pliers, tightly gripped the mini screwdriver's handle with it, and slowly turned. Movement at last! Victory was mine!
Finally, the bloody cover was off. Now, to get to that fan. More screws. Ha! No problem. I lifted the fan out. Oh my. The dirt! On the fan and everywhere. I could also see mossy-looking brown gunk sticking out here and there from under another covered area. More screws to unscrew. Yikes! The vents were almost completely covered with a matting of lint, dust, barely visible cat hairs, and who knows what else - that could be lifted off in almost a solid chunk. The cat is forbidden from ever again sitting next the laptop. It's a wonder the poor machine managed to survive this long.
Even after removing the big pieces of filth there remained too much dust and dirt, so I grabbed the vacuum cleaner with its handy-dandy attachment in place and sucked out every little piece of everything - after first making sure that nothing important would be swallowed up. That's better! I then proceeded, slowly and thoroughly, with q-tips and alcohol, to clean off the fan blades and all other visibly icky surfaces.
And after all that, I was dismayed to discover that the original problem was still there. Oh, I didn't want to admit it, but there was no denying the reality. I could turn the fan with my finger and hear it making a noise, which logic told me would be greatly amplified at its much faster operating speed. The other fan was fine - spinning absolutely noiselessly. There was something inside this fan that wasn't right. But I had to prove it to myself anyway by putting everything back in place and starting it up. Yep, the screech from hell was still there.
At this point, I am an expert screwer/unscrewer of itty-bitty screws, so I had it all apart again in no time flat. But, I have to admit that I have a problem distinguishing between things that are meant to come apart and things that come apart only when sufficient force is applied - never to come together again. It gets kind of tricky when you really don't know what you're dealing with.
Being mindful of my propensity for oops-ing up things, I gently pulled at the center piece on which the fan blades were attached. There was some resistance. I pulled slightly harder. And wouldn't you know it, it slid right out. I quickly put it back in to make sure it wasn't permanently out. Whew! Now, I had the fan taken apart as much as I was going to dare. I carefully inspected both pieces with a magnifying glass and flashlight, sucked the hell out of them with the vacuum attachment, q-tipped every reachable tiny surface with alcohol. I could see absolutely nothing wrong and the q-tips weren't even dirty. But, there was still a little dirt on the blades and since there were no electronic components on it, just a simple piece of plastic, 13 blades and a metal bearing - a shaft-like thingy - I decided I'd clean it more thoroughly.
Subconsciously I knew that further cleaning of the blades wasn't going to make any difference because my mind was going over what the hell must be the real problem and thus not paying attention to what my hands were doing... Next thing I know, snap! A single blade goes flying off. This was NOT supposed to be a detachable part. It was immediately obvious that I had just done some irreparable damage. One thing about me, I don't cry over spilled milk. I go catatonic. Everything shuts down and I freeze - all thoughts and emotions cease. I just sat very still, eyes fixed on that single, tiny, black blade lying there, far away from the main piece still in my hands, now with 12 blades and a little stub.
After a few minutes, I got up and made myself a cup of coffee. Clearly, it was time to reconnoiter.
Will she fix the fan? How can she after mutilating it? What was causing that noise? And how ever did she get back online?
Find out next time as
The Case of the Crying Fan continues on the next post. I did not expect this tale to go on so long. I've had it for today.
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