The #megadesk saga begins with the construction of #megacart, a computer cart. Typically construction with a #mega or ultra prefix ends with a lesson in humility and human folly. The tales involve engineers whose hubris brought them too close to the proverbial sun, whose mechanical colossi crumbled with every step. Like the #megatower of Babel, their structures came crashing down, and with them, the hopes and dreams of humanity. Such was nearly the case with #megadesk.
But the #megadesk motive wasn’t meglomanical. Like all good #megadeskes, #megadesk was meant to fulfill a need. And here’s where the story gets a little dark…
I arrived “home” from my first extended chemotherapy treatment only to find that my room had been flooded with toilet water. This resulted from, and I’m being charitable here, an act of negligence…
So I moved to another room in the house. Each time I returned “home” from the hospital I’d find that the door had been knocked off its hinges, forced open, and my new room broken into…
Beyond not so much as wishing me well, and beyond refusing to provide care giving duties (without which I would’ve been denied my BMT and simply died), the Kelley’s were actively undermining my health and well being. The cancer institute was aware of these and worse incidents and insisted I be moved to a medical half-way house of sorts. Even moving out would prove difficult. I sorted my belongings into only what was necessary for me with the intention of giving the remainder to my niece and nephew. But even the smallest act of charity is prone to sabotage in the Kelley household. I came home to find the donation items ransacked and tossed about before my niece and nephew ever had a chance to choose from among them. What’s worse, the room now littered with my belongings had just been cleaned and organized; after the tantrum it became an in-navigable and potentially life-threatening hazard for my ninety+ year old grandmother.
I moved into the medical halfway-house, only to have my stay curtailed by two weeks. I was kicked out while I was inpatient, which meant that a good friend had to rescue my remaining belongings. He had less than 24 hours warning before my computers and a lifetime of work were to be thrown out into the street.
Dismal story short, in less than a year since my diagnosis I will have moved at least 4 times. That’s tough enough even when you’re well. Each time, I (or a good friend in one instance), have had to undo a Gorgon’s Knot of cables, pack everything, move everything, and then rewire. Only to do it two months later. Surely there was a better way?
There was. #Megadesk. I needed a computer cart that was somewhat mobile into which I could permanently wire 4 computers, a USB hub/charging station, KVM switch, networking switch, and power strip, at the very least.
Searching “computer cart” didn’t return anything suitable. It seemed like I’d have to build my own.
I opened up 3ds Max and got to work. In short order this is what I’d come up with:
After just having edited my personal belongings down to the bare minimum, I didn’t have many of the tools or any of the materials to get the job done. Even polyurethane stain is expensive. I’d need clamps, too. And a dowel jig. And wood, of course, furniture grade wood is expensive… The costs were starting to get out of control and I hadn’t even begun shopping for the desk portion of #megadesk!
Yet I proceeded and purchased some of the materials. What tools I could, I borrowed. And then I revisited the design. Concerns that I’d written off came back to haunt me. Was this going to collapse? I shared my plans and concerns with an engineering friend. He confirmed that yes, due to reasons, it would probably collapse. Like Icarus, I had been building #megadesk too close to the sun, atop the #megatower of Babel. Or something.
In any event, now that I was more aware of the costs involved in building #megadesk I decided to revisit my search terms rather than my blueprints. “Utility cart” seemed much more promising than “computer cart.” At first…
To be continued!