Last Thursday or so, my Lady-love brings in her laptop and says, “It’s wrecked. Fix it, you sexy geek of +3 studliness.”* “Uh-oh,” I think to myself. She pulls it out of her bag, I see a hinge standing straight outwards and a shower of broken plastic bits where the outer shell used to be. Crap. I hate fixing laptops. It’s bloody impossible without just getting entire new parts. May as well just go buy a new one that’s modern and up-to-date rather than fixing it or you’re guaranteed to be toting around a decrepit piece of junk that’s patched together with bailing twine and horse gum.
Read More