Though I was not the last person on the computer before it died, I was the person who found it blank, wounded and unresponsive.
Therefore, it seems only reasonable to some to assume that I must have been the one to break it.
My phone call for help – to Mr.Q at his computer job – was taken with little seriousness and I was told to reboot. Repeatedly. To no avail. My subsequent phone call for help was met with thinly veiled exasperation [depending on who you talk to] and the theory was that all would be well within 5 minutes of Mr.Q’s gallant arrival home after work.
It was not.
Mr.Q was, however, able to coax the dusty
piece of crap desktop back to life long enough to transfer all recent updates to photos, documents, finances and email to an external hard drive and some stuff to the laptop. And now the desktop rests. It may have already slipped into a more permanent sleep – a computer coma from which it can be roused only with brand new sparkly parts.
Assuming that we can convince the manufacturer that replacements fall under our remaining warranty.