Sometimes, I’m so goddamned awesome that I scare myself. 🙂

Last night, someone who shall remain nameless (but lives in this house and knows how to use Linux) may have been drunk enough to accidentally upset half a bottle of Smirnoff Twisted V, “Pomegranate Fusion” on the desk, and a good percentage ran down into the keyboard. Okay, so it was me, I was three-quarters drunk and I did upset half a bottle of wonderfully sugar-sweetened malt beverage into the keyboard. I didn’t do anything with it last night because I had other things on my mind, so I just shut down when we went to bed. I forgot all about it when I woke up this morning, and even after I did remember, I didn’t think too much about it because Christ knows I’ve dumped enough coffee, crumbs and other crap into the poor thing, and somehow, it always forgave me. This time, though, it did not. I have auto-login enabled, so I did manage to get logged in, but when I went to check my Gmail, I couldn’t type the password because for every key I pressed, I got at least four characters. Uh-oh.

We repair computers, so it’s not like there aren’t four hundred keyboards lying around, but for me, it’s not that simple because I am quite particular about my keyboard. There is one model manufactured by Keytronic, and I have used that model for many years. I touch-type, and I’m fast on it because I don’t have to know exactly where the keys are–my fingers already do. Since I know I’m fussy, and this keyboard cannot be purchased anywhere locally, I keep a spare, but the problem this time was that the board I’m using is my spare. The one I had before is still downstairs, but the space bar only works about half of the time. That is actually why I use this particular board–they’re tough. I was taught to type by a woman who was born three years later than Jesus Christ, and she made us learn on the old Remington manuals. In order to be able to type carbons on a manual typewriter, you need to be able to strike the key hard. Mrs. Ogden sent us all home with those red/white/blue rubber balls, and she told us to use them to exercise our hands so we’d gain the strength to hit the keys hard enough. I took her at her word, and although I haven’t seen a manual typewriter for many years, I’m absolutely sure that I could still manage a three-copy carbon on a full-size Remington. It’s habit now, and too deeply ingrained to break, but it means I’m hard on computer keyboards because I hit the keys damned near as hard.

In order to have something, I went down and got one of the spare boards, but since I would die without my model, I decided to try cleaning it. If none of the circuits were actually fried, then all I’d need to do would be to get the sticky stuff off so the sugar couldn’t conduct current where current wasn’t supposed to go. I told P. that I was going to try cleaning it, and he said that in all of his years working with computers, he had never once seen a major keyboard repair succeed. That made me all the more determined to try. 😉

I took a picture of the board so I would know the key arrangement, then started trying to get it apart. There are no screws, but I’ve taken these boards apart before, so I know where all of the little clips are. Got the cover off, and started pulling keycaps. Holy fuck, what a disaster it was in there. I dumped the keycaps into a container with hot water and dish detergent, then pulled off the plastic base underneath them (gross). Not looking good–there was Pomegranate Fusion down on the membrane. I pulled that off and stuck it in the water with the keycaps, then looked at the circuits. Keyboard circuits aren’t on a board, they’re printed on transparent plastic. My board has two sheets of circuits separated by a plain sheet, and be goddamned if the stuff hadn’t got all the way down to the bottom. Fuck.

I washed the case, towel-dried it and then dried it the rest of the way with a hair dryer, then set it aside. I didn’t have any distilled water, and our water is hard enough that it does leave some calcium deposits, so I tried cleaning the circuits by gently wiping with rubbing alcohol. Crossed my fingers, then got started washing the membrane and keycaps. At this point, I didn’t hold out much hope that the board would work because there was so much gunk on the circuits that I figured something had to be fried, but I’d gone that far, so damn it, I was going to finish.

I have a standard 105-key board. Each one of the keycaps had to be carefully dried, paying special attention to the inside of the post, since water didn’t evaporate from there, and didn’t drain very well, either. I now have intimate knowledge of each and every one of my 105 keys, thank you very much. Finally, I did get them all dry, unloaded the pictures from my camera and brought up one of the board. It didn’t take me long to get the keycaps back on, and I was ready to give my repair job a try.

I use a PS2 keyboard because I have a PS2 port and have 4000 (give or take a few) USB devices already. Even with six ports on board and an 8-port hub, USB ports are still a precious commodity. Anyway, I shut down the computer, switched keyboards and fired it up. Booted okay, nothing shorted out, and I was hopeful. I started gedit and typed the sentence I know so very well (thank you, Mrs. Ogden). “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their land.” Goddamn. Typing “i” was giving me i888, and “l” made the 8 repeat as if I was holding down the key. Fuck.

I shut down, unplugged the board and started popping keycaps again. My fingers are sore, BTW–couldn’t find the key puller. I took the whole thing apart again, and this time, I didn’t worry too much about the circuits because they were fucked anyway. I took them right out to the sink and held the little board in my hand while I rinsed the circuits with the kitchen sprayer. I figured they’d be fucked for good, but it was worth a shot. I dried the circuits carefully, just in case, but didn’t bother putting all of the keys back on this time; I just put the letters and top row numbers on. This time, I grabbed a brain cell and connected with a PS2 to USB adaper (forgot about that the first time…hehe). Lo and behold, the time that I don’t bother to put everything back together….it works! I unplugged it, stuck the rest of the keys back on, put the cover on, and be goddamned if it isn’t working just fine. I told P. that he could officially say that he had, in fact, seen a keyboard repair actually work, and it took only 31 years for it to happen, since he began working with computers in 1976. Yes, since punch cards. 🙂

Yay once again for Geek Girl (actually, this time Sadie the Cleaning Lady–nothing she can’t clean!)