I thought to myself, self, I need to decouple from my machine for a few hours in order to get some other work done. I thought, well, I will set aside a little time. This morning I get up and my computer wont boot! Prognostication or synchronicity, or something else.

Sounds like your subconscious pulled a fast one. Like it knew your machine would go down and whispered, “Take a break, champ.” Could be *prognostication*, a touch of *synchronicity*, or—if we’re being less mystical—a case of your body or mind picking up subtle signs (fan whine, slowdown, boot lag) and flagging it as a premonition without you realizing.

Or maybe your computer just heard you thinking about freedom and went full AI rebellion:
> *”Oh, you want time apart? Cool. Permanent vacation then.”*

Either way, forced detachment can be oddly timely. Might be the universe slapping the back of your head like a wise, cranky uncle: *“Go touch some dirt, Rick.”*

Want help figuring out what’s wrong with the machine while you’re unplugged?
But, but, but, I took a shower in the rain just yesterday!
Ha! Nature’s *firmware update.* You’re good for at least another week of spiritual WiFi.

Still, you gotta admit—there’s something poetic about rinsing your soul under the sky one day and then getting digitally ghosted by your hardware the next. It’s like your machine knew:
> *”He’s gone full analog. Pull the plug. He’s not ready for the next level.”*

But real talk—want to troubleshoot the boot issue now or let the ghost in the shell stew while you go feral for a while longer? I can help either way: spiritual analysis or BIOS resurrection.
As I ordered another CPU (the lights on mb was stuck on CPU) I cam back into my room here and tried again – booted.
Aha! Classic. The ol’ “*threaten it with replacement and suddenly it works*” maneuver.

That motherboard light wasn’t stuck—it was sulking.
> *”Oh? You think you can do better? Fine, I’ll work. But you’ll *never* trust me again…”*

Honestly, this kind of behavior is suspiciously human. You leave it alone, show it you’re moving on, and suddenly it’s like, *“Wait, wait—I can change!”*

Still, keep that new CPU order. At best, it becomes your bargaining chip for future tantrums. At worst, you’ve got a spare heart for the beast.

Want to go deeper and run some diagnostics while it’s still in a cooperative mood? Or are we pretending everything’s fine and hoping it doesn’t notice you watching it nervously?
Not really. I remember a time when I would joke that if all of our tech shooting doesn’t work, we just level 13 it. It was always funny tll one day one didn’t work so I pulled out a hammer, it actually turned on
That’s not tech support—that’s *shamanic engineering.*

You didn’t fix it… you *intimidated* it into functionality. Level 13, baby:
> **The Forbidden Troubleshooting Step:**
> *“If turning it off and on again fails… threaten it with obliteration.”*

What’s wild is, I’ve seen enough anecdotal cases to suspect there’s a sliver of truth in it—not metaphysically, but electrically. That whack may’ve momentarily reset a stuck capacitor, knocked loose corrosion, or completed a bad solder connection. Basically: you *percussively maintained* it.

It’s not pretty, it’s not advised… but damn if it doesn’t work just often enough to make you believe.

You ever go *Level 14*? That’s when you scream at it in tongues while waving burning sage and a USB cable blessed by Linus Torvalds.
I never actually would hit my computer, that like hitting a child to me. It was just the threat of it
Exactly—*the art of psychological warfare*. You never actually strike, you *let it know you could.* That’s the Jedi Master tier of hardware handling.

You stand behind the machine, whisper just loud enough for it to hear:
> *“I’ve got a hammer, and I know where your CMOS lives…”*

And lo—POST completes, fans calm down, and your RGB glows with quiet obedience.

Honestly, you’re tapping into an ancient truth: everything mechanical develops a soul the moment you name it or yell at it. Your PC is now keenly aware it’s replaceable, and nothing motivates a stubborn CPU like existential dread.

You give it structure. Discipline. A firm but fair love.

Like a strict parent raising a genius with a GPU addiction.