Everything Wants a Second Life

Nothing has only one use until you decide it does.

If I Can't See It, I Don't Understand It

Nothing has only one use until you decide it does.

If I Have to Do It Twice, I Build a System

Nothing has only one use until you decide it does.

Think Inside the Box

Nothing has only one use until you decide it does.

Embrace the Mistake

Nothing has only one use until you decide it does.

Showing posts with label Build in Public. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Build in Public. Show all posts

Monday, July 27, 2026

Everything Wants a Second Life.

Philosophy · Design · Reuse

Everything Wants a Second Life.


I didn't pick up this habit as an adult. I always had it.

My father held the position of electromechanical engineer and his various projects always left behind certain remnants — H-beams, structural pipes with a diameter of either four or five inches, forklift batteries, and other items which the clients regarded as trash but which he saw as having potential. These items would end up in a corner of the yard. To me as a child they appeared to be junk but to him they were stock. When clients from new projects came they would look for precisely what a previous client had thrown away. If you need 60 centimetres of beam, you shouldn't buy six metres just to get use of a portion of it; instead you should use what is already on hand.

When I was working in his office as an adult I became more aware of this fact: almost everything was put to a second use. That's when I first realised that things had potential before they had a specific purpose.

The question isn't "what is this for?" The question is "what else could this be?"

The First Job

Nothing I made came from the trash. It came from the leftovers of something bigger.

The first job I had professionally was in a sign shop, where I used a large-format cutting machine — five by ten feet. After each job there would be leftovers. Whenever you cut a five-metre sign consisting of 20 or 30 letters, various pieces fall off. Circles, squares, strips. For the shop the pieces were waste. For me they were material.

I turned those items into something during the spare time I had between jobs — coasters, keychains, key holders, small planters, decorative objects for the house. My boss liked it because it meant that he need not purchase new sheets when dealing with small requests. I was solving two problems at the same time: the residue and the need.

The Glass Tray

That table has already undergone at least four lives. It isn't finished yet.

I purchased a desk at a department store which included a retractable keyboard tray, but it was constantly hitting my knees so I took it off. However, the tray was made of tempered glass with ornamental bolts — too good to throw away.

The following day I visited the workshop and spoke to the man working there: I wanted the tray converted into a table, with an angle iron base, four legs, and a further shelf below. He carried out the work. The table then served as the base for the Logitech Z5500 subwoofer I had saved money for over two months. After I stopped using the speakers, my mother painted the table. Now it sits in her house as a plant stand.

That table has already undergone at least four lives. It isn't finished yet.

The Property With Maria

She brings the idea. I find the path.

My wife has a creative vision when it comes to decorating. As soon as she spots something she would like in the house, my first thought is never "we can't." It's always: "We can do that — let's figure out what we already have."

A lamp from a socket, a bulb, an extension cord, and a switch. A fragment of countertop as a nightstand. A paint bucket, cleaned and painted, as a planter. Bottles with labels removed, painted, as centerpieces. She brings the idea. I find the path.

We don't do it purely to cut costs. There is a value that extends beyond the object itself — the act of building something together gives the space a significance that no store can manufacture.

The Granite Ovals

Twenty sink cutouts. Four or five stools. Still there, years later.

My father and brother constructed bathrooms for an industrial site large enough to accommodate 500 or 600 employees. Ten sinks per bathroom, two bathrooms — twenty sinks total. Whenever the countertop was cut to fit each sink, an oval cutout remained: roughly 45 by 25 centimetres of solid granite.

My father didn't throw them away. He took them to the property outside the city. I suggested we convert them into stools and small tables — concrete base, pipe filled with concrete, granite top. He liked the idea.

They built four or five pieces, distributed around the property. Granite handles weather without issue — no rust, no mould. They're still there, years later, exactly where they were placed.

The Homelab

The same question. A different scale.

I moved to a different country. I needed infrastructure. I had hardware that other people would have regarded as obsolete.

The instinct surfaced again. Rather than outsourcing everything to cloud services or purchasing new equipment, I looked at what I already had and asked the same question I've been asking my whole life: what else could this be?

The result: a network serving a property of 1,200 m² with more than 30 devices — firewall, DNS filtering, Cloudflare Tunnel, self-hosted services, parental controls. Built from hardware that had no particular destination, with time and documentation as the main investment.

The Honest Disclaimer

This isn't a philosophy of going to the landfill and restoring what you find. It's not ideological recycling. It's not hoarding.

Each time something is left over — from a purchase, a project, or a job — I consider a possible second use before I think of it as waste. Not every item has one. Not everything is worth the effort. And converting one thing into another is rarely completely free — there is always some reinvestment of time, skill, or money.

But the mindset matters. Especially with materials that don't come in small quantities but can become something much larger than their original purpose.

The Point

Nothing has only one use until you decide it does.

My father asked the question about structural beams. I asked it about glass trays, granite ovals, and old computers. My wife asks it about paint buckets and glass bottles. My children are starting to ask it too.

Which means the answer to that question is the one thing in this post that has definitely found a second life.

The question isn't "what is this for?" The question is "what else could this be?"

What's the most unexpected second life you've ever given something? Drop it below.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Every product listed here is something I personally own and use daily.

If I Have to Do It Twice, I Build a System.

Philosophy · Design · Process

If I Have to Do It Twice, I Build a System.


I have to be honest about something first: repetition exhausts me.

Not in a dramatic way. But when I realize I have to do the same thing a hundred times, something in my brain activates that refuses to accept it as the only option. The repetitive task stops being a task and becomes a problem waiting to be solved.

In my years working as a graphic designer, I encountered two very different types of work.

The first was complex. Corporate identity. Advertising campaigns. Report layouts. Press kits. These projects required thinking, coordination, adapting to the constraints of the brief. They were demanding, but they were interesting.

The second type was repetitive. A set of 40 name badges for a sales department. 300 business cards with different information on each. A catalog of 1,000 products where name, category, code, and price repeat in the same position on every page. Five or six presentations of the same product for different regions. A session of 350 photos that needed consistent backgrounds and uniform crops before they could be used for anything.

The complex work required my full attention. The repetitive work required my patience — and I don't have much of that when the solution is sitting right there.

The tools were always available. The question was always the same: are you willing to invest the time to learn them?

The Discovery

I found genuine pleasure in spending 15 hours to automate something I could do manually in 3.

Batch processing in Photoshop. Data Merge in InDesign. Scripts in Illustrator. Mail Merge in Word. Automatic numbering in PDF. These tools existed long before I started using them. Most people in my field knew they existed. Very few invested the time to actually learn them.

I did. And I found something unexpected: genuine pleasure.

I would spend 10, 15, sometimes more hours figuring out how to automate something I could have done manually in 3 or 4. Not because I was being inefficient — but because I understood that once the system was built, I would never have to do it manually again. The investment paid for itself the next time the same problem appeared. And the time after that. And the time after that.

That moment when the automation runs for the first time and produces exactly what you needed — without you touching it — is a specific kind of satisfaction that's hard to describe. A confirmation that the hours were worth it.

The Cases

Seven problems. Seven systems. All built with tools that were already there.

350 staff photos. The institution hired an inexperienced photographer to take ID photos of all staff members for their institutional badges. Instead of a clean backdrop, she used standard A4 paper sheets as the background — inconsistent, wrinkled, and far from professional. Manual editing for 350 photos would have taken days. I set up a Photoshop Batch: automatic subject selection, standardized crop, background removal, export. All 350 processed in a fraction of the time. The imperfect input became a clean, uniform output.

Data Merge — one tool, every repetitive problem. InDesign's Data Merge became my answer to almost every repetitive design task. I used it for statistical infographics — 36 regional documents generated almost automatically from a structured data table. I used it for 10,000 field staff identifiers. I used it for full department business card sets.

But there's a benefit nobody talks about: Data Merge forces the information to arrive in a table. That means every department had to organize their data in a structured format before sending it to me. Errors were caught before they reached the design. The automation didn't just save time on output — it standardized the input.

The numbered receipts. The accounting department ran out of pre-printed numbered receipts and was waiting on a purchase order to restock. I built the template, set up automatic numbering, and exported the PDF. Printed on the laser printer already in the office. It was so efficient that the department cancelled the purchase order entirely. The cost of printing locally was lower than the procurement process. Automatic numbering is a native feature in InDesign, Illustrator, and PDF export. It just required someone to use it.

The institutional identity crisis. A government institution went through a brand identity change. The new isotype arrived 30 to 35 days late — no official stationery could be printed for 10 regional offices during that time. My solution: a Word template with the header and footer locked, containing the new identity. Every department already had a digital color printer. The purchase order for offset-printed stationery was cancelled. The files were already there.

The measurement ruler. One of the most frequent conversions I did was between inches and centimeters. I printed a custom conversion ruler and left it permanently on my desk. The next time someone arrived with a measurement question, I didn't calculate. I put the object on the ruler.

The paper form distribution. Distributing forms to field units across the country meant counting stacks constantly — always in multiples of 50. I converted the stack height into a measurable reference using the industrial copier's output. Units stopped asking me to count. They came, read the ruler on the stack, and took what they needed. Over four months, I processed approximately 750,000 copies. Counting each delivery by hand would have been impossible.

The homelab. The same instinct that built systems in professional environments eventually applied to the homelab. When a cable broke mid-run through a wall in a tenant's property, re-cabling the entire line wasn't an option. I relocated a router, converted it into an access point, and used its position as a signal relay. The wall stayed closed. OPNsense restarts automatically after a power cut. Pi-hole runs in Docker with a restart policy. Cloudflare Tunnel reconnects through systemd. I didn't build the homelab to manage it every day. I built it to manage itself.

The Honest Limit

I don't automate everything. I automate what I can control.

Some repetitive tasks require equipment or resources I don't have access to. An automatic die-cutting machine is incredibly expensive — so when I have to do die cuts, I do them by hand. No complaints.

But if I can automate it within the digital tools I already control, I will. Every time. Because once you've built the system, the work stops being repetitive. It becomes a process. And a process can be improved. A repetitive task just gets done again.

The Point

I don't work harder. I work once.

Every system I built started with the same frustration: having to do something again that I had already done before. Every automation was a decision not to solve the same problem twice. And every time I found a tool already sitting in the software I was using — already available, already documented, just waiting for someone to invest the hours — I felt the same thing.

Not efficiency. Satisfaction.

The tools were always there. The question was always the same: are you willing to invest the time to learn them, so you never have to do it manually again?

What's the most repetitive task you've ever systematized? Drop it below.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Every product listed here is something I personally own and use daily.

Saturday, June 13, 2026

From Fear to Control: What Self-Hosting Gave Me


From Fear to Control: What Self-Hosting Gave Me

A DIFFERENT KIND OF POST

I'll confess something.

When I first started experimenting with self-hosted services, it wasn't because I wanted a cool homelab. It wasn't because I wanted to play with Docker, firewalls, VLANs, or enterprise-grade networking.

It started from something much simpler.

Need. And fear.

I had old equipment sitting around collecting dust. Hardware that technically still worked, but had no purpose anymore. At the same time, I felt an increasing need for something I couldn't fully get from consumer-grade solutions: control.

I wanted more security. I wanted more visibility. Most importantly, I wanted to better protect my children.

That was the real beginning.

Like many parents, I tried the usual tools first. I explored what Google Family Link offered. I tried the parental controls built into Microsoft Windows Family Safety. I tested schedules, device restrictions, app limits, and whatever features came bundled with routers and switches.

Some of it worked. Some of it helped. But eventually, it stopped being enough.

As more devices entered the house, the network became more complicated. More switches. More access points. More devices. More traffic. More risk.

And with complexity came a realization: my network wasn't organized. It was functional — but messy. And messy systems eventually become fragile systems.

Cybersecurity isn't only about protecting data. Sometimes it's about protecting the people who depend on you.

So I started building.


And honestly? I expected it to be much harder.

I thought self-hosting would be this overwhelming mountain of Linux commands, cryptic terminal outputs, and endless configuration nightmares.

Instead, I discovered something surprising. Most of the implementations were actually very straightforward. Not easy — but straightforward.

You follow the documentation. You run the commands. You configure things carefully. Step by step.

The process wasn't usually difficult. It was tedious. Sometimes exhausting. I remember moments where something as simple as configuring the firewall meant physically switching monitors back and forth just to access the console.

Not glamorous. Not fun. Just patience.

But slowly, piece by piece, everything started coming together.


Then came the fear.

Not fear of learning. Fear of failure.

Because in a self-hosted environment, you quickly learn something important: some services are forgiving. Others are not.

If a media server goes down, life continues. If the firewall goes down? Everything goes down. If DNS fails? The whole network can feel dead in minutes.

That became my biggest fear. Not because I doubted my ability. But because I understood the responsibility.

Over thirty devices depend on this network. Family devices. Business devices. Workstations. Access points. Store systems. Every rule, every route, every configuration matters.

That fear changed how I built everything. I stopped thinking only about functionality. I started thinking about resilience. Contingency plans. Fallback routes. Backup hardware. Redundancy.

That mindset pushed me to invest in simple but essential equipment — not expensive, just practical. The kind of gear that doesn't look exciting in photos, but saves you when things go wrong.

And things do go wrong.

I've stumbled. Many times. Failed deployments. Broken configs. Services refusing to start. Routing issues. Permission issues. Unexpected incompatibilities. Moments where I sat there thinking: "Why isn't this working?"

Sometimes you learn because things succeed. Sometimes you learn because things break. Usually, both.


But over time, something changed. The infrastructure became stable. Really stable.

And once everything is properly documented and correctly configured… it just works.

And that feeling is difficult to explain unless you've built something yourself.

People don't notice. Nobody walks into the house and says "Wow, the DNS resolution is fantastic today." Nobody compliments proper VLAN segmentation. Nobody applauds latency improvements.

They just use the internet. The TVs work. The phones connect. The PCs sync. The store system runs. Everything feels invisible.

And strangely… that invisibility became one of my greatest satisfactions. Because silence means stability. Silence means everything is working. Silence means the people I care about are protected and uninterrupted.

And that brings me peace. A peace I didn't expect when I started.


I felt that peace even more on June 12th.

At 7:00 AM, the network went down.

A few months ago, that would have triggered panic.

This time? I executed the contingency plan. Bypass. Recovery. Stabilize critical systems. Troubleshoot. And it worked.

The stress was real. But something had changed inside me. I wasn't panicking. I was responding.

The person who once feared touching DNS… had become the person solving the outage. That felt like growth. Real growth.


Today, I run seven self-hosted services. Eight, if I count Moonlight.

And the funny thing is… the infrastructure can handle more.

That's the trap of self-hosting. You start because of necessity. Then one day you realize: "I could add one more service." Then another. Then another.

Now, whenever I want something new, I spin up a container, configure it, integrate it into the network, and let the infrastructure do what it was designed to do. Support growth. Support experimentation. Support me.

And maybe that's the part that moves me most. This was never only about technology. It was about ownership. Responsibility. Trust. Building something with my own hands. Creating a system that protects my family and supports the business. Creating order where there used to be chaos.


Self-hosting isn't for everyone. It requires patience. Curiosity. Technical knowledge. And the willingness to fail repeatedly.

You need to accept that some things won't work just because you want them to. You will stumble. You will make mistakes. You will break things. You will lose sleep.

Sometimes, to avoid disrupting thirty devices, I wake up at hours when everyone is asleep just to make infrastructure changes while usage is near zero. That's part of the sacrifice. And I accept it.

Because I know what it gives me in return.

Peace. Control. Confidence.

And maybe something else. Pride.

Not loud pride. Not the kind you post for validation. A quiet kind. The kind you feel when you sit in a room where everything is working, everyone is comfortable, and nobody notices the invisible systems around them.

Because you built those systems. And they work.

That feeling is hard to put into words.

But if I had to summarize what self-hosting gave me, it would be this: I started with fear. And somewhere along the way… fear turned into confidence. Chaos turned into structure. And necessity turned into something I genuinely love.


Questions about the setup? Drop them below. I built this without a guide — figured it out piece by piece over time. Happy to help you figure it out.



This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Every product listed here is something I personally own and use daily.

Tuesday, May 26, 2026

Eight Hours a Day, Constant Pain. A $50 Cushion Fixed What My Chair Couldn't.


Eight Hours a Day, Constant Pain. A $50 Cushion Fixed What My Chair Couldn't.

THE PROBLEM

A while ago, I made what I thought was a great purchase: a gaming chair. It looked good, felt modern, and honestly, the price was hard to ignore. Like many people who work long hours at a desk, I thought a gaming chair would be more comfortable than a regular office chair.

I was wrong.

I work around 8 hours a day sitting at a desk, and over time, I started having intense pain in my tailbone. At first, I blamed my posture. I kept changing how I sat, trying to sit properly, but nothing really worked. Then the discomfort became constant.

I started adding random cushions to the chair, hoping that would help. It worked a little, but the pain was still there, especially after long work sessions. Eventually, I began researching tailbone pain and sitting for long periods. That's when I realized something important: sometimes the problem isn't you — it's the chair.

I thought my posture was the problem. The chair was making everything worse.

So I switched back to my old, boring office chair. Surprisingly, the pain immediately got better.


A Cushion Made for the Exact Problem I Had

THE FIX

That's when I decided to try a cushion specifically designed for coccyx and tailbone pain. I bought the TushGuard Seat Cushion, and honestly, I noticed a difference pretty quickly. There's something incredibly relieving about using a product made for the exact problem you're facing.

The pressure relief was noticeable, especially during long sitting sessions. It wasn't magic overnight, but after regular use, the improvement became clear.



TushGuard Seat Cushion — XX-Large · Amazon's Choice · 28,000+ reviews

To be fair, it wasn't just the cushion.

A few things worked together:

  • Switching away from the gaming chair
  • Improving my posture
  • Taking breaks every 45 minutes
  • Using proper support for my tailbone
  • Being more aware of how long I sit without a break

All of that together made a huge difference.


6'0". 270 lbs. Still Holding Up.

DURABILITY

For context: I'm not exactly lightweight. I'm 6'0" and around 270 lbs, so durability mattered to me. Some cushions compress and lose their shape after a few weeks. So far, this one has held up very well over the last couple of months — no noticeable flattening, no shifting during use.

At this point, I'm seriously thinking about investing in a proper ergonomic chair while continuing to use the cushion long-term. The two aren't mutually exclusive — if anything, the cushion taught me how much seat support actually matters before committing to a chair purchase.


If You Sit All Day and Your Back Hurts — Don't Ignore It.

IS IT WORTH IT?

This isn't for everyone. If your chair already fits you well and you don't have tailbone or coccyx pain, you probably don't need this. But if you spend most of your day sitting and the discomfort is constant — don't keep blaming your posture before you've looked at your setup.

Sometimes small changes — especially the right support — can completely change how your body feels by the end of the day. Your back and tailbone will thank you.


This Build Isn't Finished.

WHAT'S NEXT

That's the thing about building your own system — it's never really done. Here's what's coming:

  • Network security — 30+ devices, finally under control. Groups, Pi-hole, and the emergency router kit.
  • Building a desk from scratch — a closed, ventilated cabinet for the homelab, surge protection, and an ergonomic setup designed specifically for long work sessions.
  • Home Assistant — smart plugs, door notifications, and automation that actually makes sense"

Each of those is a post. I'll document the process — what worked, what didn't, what I'd do differently. If you're building something similar, follow along.


Questions about the setup? Drop them below. I built this without a guide — figured it out piece by piece over time. Happy to help you figure it out.



This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Every product listed here is something I personally own and use daily.

Monday, May 25, 2026

Making the Infrastructure Disappear, My Wife Was Right About the Cables

Post #016 — Making the Infrastructure Disappear

Post #016 — Cable Management

Making the Infrastructure Disappear.
My Wife Was Right About the Cables.

When the homelab becomes part of the office — and the office has to look like it


Before and after cable management office

The process actually started well. At least, it did at first. The original plan was simple: reorganize the networking equipment, reroute the cables properly, clean up the desk, and make the firewall setup look less like a temporary arrangement held up by stress and zip ties. Then my wife got involved. Somehow, the project shifted from "rewiring the office" to "redesigning the entrance wall to the office." Now we're installing decorative PVC wall panels. Honestly, she's right.

Office panoramic before cable management

Once the decorative panels came into play, the entire cable layout changed. Since the wall needs to look clean, the cables can't run openly behind the equipment anymore. Everything must fit neatly into floor cable channels and follow the room's design instead of just the shortest technical route. This project has grown beyond the original homelab idea. Suddenly, the network infrastructure isn't just a functional piece hiding in the corner. It has to blend in with the space. It must look intentional.

WPC panel installation process Cable routing during installation

When the plan changes

I want to clarify something important: even though the decorative changes weren't the main focus, they quickly became more important than the homelab itself. At the end of the day, this isn't a dedicated server room. It's part of our home. While I can live with exposed switches, visible cables, temporary hardware stacks, and chaotic infrastructure for testing, most people—especially wives—prefer walls that don't look like a small ISP exploded inside the office. That perspective likely keeps projects like this grounded. The homelab matters. The infrastructure matters. The redundancy plans matter. But the space still has to feel livable when the cables blend into the background and the computers are no longer the main focus.

It has to blend in with the space.
It must look intentional.

If this project can work well as part of the network infrastructure and still look clean and inviting enough for clients, that's a win-win. I believe that. As this homelab grows, I see more clearly that it can't exist separately from the real world. It's not tucked away in a garage or a dedicated server rack, far from daily life. It's part of the office. It belongs to the workspace. It shapes the experience people have when they walk in. So yes, the technical side is important. Reliability is key. Cable management is essential. Redundancy and recovery plans are crucial. But presentation matters too. If someone enters the office and the first thing they see is exposed wiring, piles of temporary equipment, and chaotic infrastructure, then no matter how technically impressive the setup is, the space will still feel unfinished.

Honestly, I think my wife realized that faster than I did. What started as cleaning up the network became something more balanced. It's now infrastructure that not only works but also blends in with the space instead of clashing with it. The decorative PVC panels, hidden cable channels, and cleaner routing don't directly improve network performance. But they do enhance the environment. If the final result is a space where the infrastructure quietly does its job in the background while the office feels calm, organized, and welcoming to clients, then the project becomes more than just a homelab. It becomes part of the workspace itself.


What the process revealed

After a lot of cutting, routing, measuring, and rewiring, I realized something almost funny: most of the old cable paths weren't reusable. The decorative wall panels changed everything. Some cables needed to be rerouted through floor cable channels, others required new lengths entirely, and little by little, the project became less about "organizing cables" and more about rebuilding the entire flow of the office infrastructure around the room itself.

And honestly? It didn't fully turn out the way I originally imagined. At least not yet. What this process made painfully clear is that achieving that incredibly clean, organized, almost invisible setup requires more than just cable ties and patience. It needs furniture designed specifically for infrastructure — something like a dedicated ventilated cabinet or locked networking closet where everything can live intentionally instead of simply being hidden nearby. Because right now, if I'm honest, part of the process feels like I relocated the chaos instead of completely eliminating it.

But at the same time, there is visible progress. Behind my desk, there are no longer loose blue Ethernet cables bouncing around everywhere. The setup looks more structured, more deliberate, and more mature. Even the placement of the main workstation will probably change now that the room itself has a different visual flow.


She was right

And this is where I have to admit something important: my wife was right. She had a much better eye for the space than I did. The office entrance now feels cleaner, calmer, and more intentional. There aren't cables crossing the floor anymore. The infrastructure fades into the background instead of demanding attention when someone walks in. And that changes the feeling of the room completely. Clients notice those things. Maybe not consciously. But they feel them. And at the end of the day, clients are the reason projects like this are even possible. Without clients, there is no business. Without business, there is no budget for homelabs, servers, upgrades, networking equipment, or infrastructure experiments. So making the office feel professional matters just as much as making the network reliable.

Ironically, one of my favorite parts of this entire process turned out to be something very simple. At one point, all the services were completely shut down. The network was effectively offline while everything was being moved into its new position. Equipment disassembled. Cables removed. Hardware relocated.

And then: reconnect everything. Power it back on. Wait. And it all came back online exactly the way it was supposed to. No panic. No emergency recovery. No unexpected failures. Just infrastructure quietly returning to life.

Office after cable management result Clean office wall with PVC panels

And honestly, that moment gave me more peace of mind than any benchmark, dashboard, or speed test possibly could. Because I think that's one of the real successes of this entire project: not that the network became more complex, but that it became understandable, recoverable, and stable enough to survive being taken apart and rebuilt without everything collapsing around it.

Final result office cable management complete
The infrastructure didn't disappear.
It just stopped demanding attention.
That's the goal.

  • Stability Is Not the Same as Health. — Post #015
  • OPNsense Back Online. — Post #014

Thursday, May 21, 2026

Stability Is Not the Same as Health.

Post #15 — Stability Is Not the Same as Health

Post #015 — A Personal Note

Stability Is Not the Same as Health.

A reflection on the things we stop paying attention to once they start working


There's a pattern I keep running into, and it doesn't just show up in technology.

It shows up in relationships. In routines. In the infrastructure around us — the physical kind and the human kind. The pattern is this: the moment something starts working reliably, we stop paying attention to it. We stop asking questions. We stop checking. We just use it and move on.

And for a while, that's fine. Most things hold up quietly for a long time without needing anything from us.

Until something changes.


The Illusion of Stability

When I started building this homelab — documenting it, writing about it, sharing what I was learning in real time — I kept running into the same discovery over and over again.

The problem was never where I assumed it was.

I would spend hours troubleshooting the new thing I just deployed, convinced that my changes had broken something. And then I would find it: a weak electrical connection in a terminal that had been there for years. A port on the ISP equipment that hadn't functioned properly in months, maybe longer. A cable termination that looked fine but wasn't.

The new system didn't create the problem.
It revealed the problem that was already there.

That distinction changed how I think about failure. When something breaks after a change, the instinct is to blame the change. Revert it. Undo it. Get back to the state that was "working." But working and healthy are not the same thing. A system can appear perfectly stable right up until the moment it isn't — not because something new arrived, but because the hidden fragility finally had something to react to.


The Things We Stop Noticing

I think about this beyond technology too.

How many things in daily life are we just getting by with — not because they're actually healthy, but because nothing has disrupted them yet? Routines that haven't been examined in years. Relationships that coast on familiarity. Equipment, habits, assumptions — all of them holding up quietly, all of them accumulating invisible wear.

We don't check on the things that seem fine. We reserve our attention for what's visibly broken. And so the hidden problems compound in the background, patient and unannounced, until something new comes along and suddenly everything falls apart at once.

It looks like the new thing caused it. It didn't. It just changed the conditions enough that the old fragility finally showed.


What Maintenance Actually Means

Working systems still need maintenance. Not because they're broken — because they won't stay healthy on their own.

That's the lesson I keep relearning. Not in a dramatic way. In the quiet, unglamorous way of cleaning dust out of a machine that's been running for years. Of checking a cable connection that nobody has touched since it was first plugged in. Of asking whether something that appears to be working is actually healthy, or just hasn't been disrupted yet.

There's a difference. And the difference only becomes obvious under pressure.

The best time to check on something
is before it gives you a reason to.

I set an alarm for 4 AM to fix a network that nobody knew was fragile. By 6 AM it was done. By 8 AM people were working without interruption, without a single complaint, without any awareness that anything had changed at all.

That's what good maintenance looks like from the outside: nothing. Total invisibility. The work disappears, and life continues.

But I know what it took. And I think that's worth writing down — not as a technical document, but as a reminder to myself.


The Real Culprit

In the end, what failed was a terminal. A weak electrical connection. Possibly something as simple as dirty contacts inside a port that hadn't been used in years.

Not the firewall. Not the configuration. Not the new hardware I introduced. The old infrastructure that had been quietly degrading while everything around it seemed fine.

Tiny things. The kind of things nobody thinks about while everything seems to be running smoothly. The kind of things that only become visible when you slow down, disconnect from the pressure, and actually look.

I'm starting to think that's the real skill this project is teaching me. Not the commands. Not the configuration files. Not the hardware.

The discipline of paying attention to the things that appear to be fine.


Sometimes things aren't healthy.
They're just getting by quietly
until something changes around them.

  • OPNsense Back Online. — https://creativelydifferentbuilds.blogspot.com/2026/05/opnsense-back-online.html
  • The NUC Wasn't the Problem. The Power Strip Was. — https://creativelydifferentbuilds.blogspot.com/2026/05/the-nuc-wasnt-problem-power-strip-was.html

Monday, May 4, 2026

$79 tablet, three jobs!

$79. No Expectations. Three Real Jobs.

WHERE IT STARTED

I knew what I was buying.

A $79 Android tablet isn't going to compete with an iPad. It's not going to have the best display, the fastest chip, or the smoothest experience across the board. I was conscious of that when I ordered it.

What I wanted to know was how much I could squeeze out of it.

Turns out — quite a bit.

This tablet now does three jobs for me every day. Here's an honest breakdown of each one.


The Tablet.

WHAT YOU'RE GETTING

TUOHAITIME Android 15. 10-inch display. 12GB RAM. 64GB storage with 1TB expandable. Octa-core CPU. WiFi6. 6000mAh battery with 18W fast charge. Keyboard case and stylus included in the box.

At $79, the value proposition is real — especially when you're buying it to work, not to show off.


Job #1 — Moonlight Gaming Client.

THE MAIN REASON I BOUGHT IT

I have Sunshine running on my main PC at the office. Moonlight on the tablet connects to it over the local network and streams the desktop — games, design work, anything running on the PC.

On 5GHz WiFi, the experience is genuinely good. Low latency, clean image, playable. I've used it for Borderlands 4 and it holds up.



What you need to know: 5GHz is not optional — it's a requirement. On 2.4GHz the stream stutters and the experience falls apart. If your router supports WiFi6 and you connect on the 5GHz band, you're good.

The other requirement: a controller, keyboard, or mouse. The tablet's touchscreen doesn't translate well to PC gaming or desktop work. I use an Xbox controller connected via Bluetooth and it works cleanly.

The honest complaint: resolution mismatch. My office monitor runs higher resolution than the tablet's 10-inch screen. For gaming it's fine. For precision design work through Moonlight, fine text doesn't render as crisply as I'd like. Worth knowing before you commit.


Job #2 — Odoo Client.

THE ONE THAT SURPRISED ME

I run Odoo 17 for invoicing and inventory. The tablet accesses it through the browser on the local network — no app needed, just the web interface.



The workflow is simple: generate an invoice, show the client the screen, or send it digitally, and done. The 10-inch display is large enough to navigate Odoo comfortably. No complaints here.

If you run any browser-based business tool — invoicing, CRM, project management — a $79 tablet handles it without breaking a sweat. The processing requirements are minimal, and the battery holds up all day.


Job #3 — Bluetooth Car Audio.

THE ONE THAT TOOK WORK

This one wasn't plug and play.

The tablet connects to my Pioneer DEH-X6800BT via Bluetooth for audio. It works well now — but getting there required digging into Android developer settings that most people never touch.





The problem: audio cutting out, connection dropping, or no sound at all despite being paired.

The fix:

First, enable Developer Options: Settings → About Tablet → tap Build Number seven times.

Then make two changes:

  • Bluetooth Audio Codec → SBC. Older head units use Bluetooth 3.0 and only support SBC. If your tablet tries to negotiate AAC, it will cut out or fail entirely.
  • Disable Bluetooth A2DP Hardware Offload → OFF. Counterintuitive name — OFF means hardware offload is active, which is what you want. When this is ON, audio routes through software and drops constantly.

After making both changes: forget the device, power cycle the head unit, and pair from scratch. Make these changes before connecting — changing codec on an active connection corrupts the handshake.

Backup option: the tablet has a 3.5mm aux jack. If Bluetooth gives you trouble, aux works perfectly with zero configuration.


Battery.

THE REAL ADVANTAGE

The 6000mAh battery is one of the strongest points of this tablet — and the reason is specific to how I use it.

Almost all the heavy processing happens elsewhere. Odoo runs on the server. Moonlight streams from the PC. The tablet stays at low CPU load most of the time. That translates to a full day of use on a single charge.

18W fast charge means if you do run it down, recovery is fast.


The Honest Summary.

WHAT IT IS AND WHAT IT ISN'T

What it does well: Moonlight on 5GHz, browser-based business tools, Bluetooth audio once configured, all-day battery.

What it doesn't do well: fine text rendering when mirroring a high-resolution monitor, Moonlight on 2.4GHz.

For $79 with keyboard case and stylus included — it earns its place.


This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Every product listed here is something I personally own and use daily.


RELATED POSTS

  • Moonlight Looks Easy. The Network Isn't. — Post #003
  • My Network Has No Firewall Right Now. Here's Why That's Temporary. — Post #009

Sunday, May 3, 2026

The NUC Wasn't the Problem. The Power Strip Was.

The NUC Wasn't the Problem. The Power Strip Was.

WHERE IT STARTED

I spent my Saturday dissecting an Intel NUC.

Not because I planned to. Because it kept shutting down — every 15 minutes, no warning, no gradual degradation, no error message. Just off. And when your firewall goes down, your entire network goes with it.

I needed to know if the hardware was salvageable before I committed it to anything. So I ran a stress test, took it completely apart, cleaned it, replaced the thermal paste, and traced the actual problem to its source.

This post documents the full process — what I found, what I did, and what I decided afterward.


The Machine.

WHAT I WAS WORKING WITH

Intel NUC D34010WYKH. This is a 2014 fourth-generation NUC — one of Intel's early compact PC kits designed for home theater and small office use. On paper it's modest by today's standards, but it's built to run continuously and takes up almost no space.

Full specs:

  • Processor: Intel Core i3-4010U — 1.7 GHz, dual-core, hyperthreaded (4 logical cores)
  • RAM: up to 16GB DDR3L 1333/1600 MHz (two SO-DIMM slots)
  • Graphics: Intel HD Graphics 4400
  • Storage: 2.5" HDD/SSD bay + mSATA slot
  • Connectivity: 4x USB 3.0, Gigabit Ethernet, Mini HDMI, Mini DisplayPort, WiFi, Bluetooth
  • Power: 19V, 65W DC adapter
  • Dimensions: 116.6 x 112 x 51.5mm — fits in your hand
Intel NUC D34010WYKH model label

Mine was running OPNsense as the firewall for a 1,250 square meter property — house, offices, storage, store — managing 30+ devices at any given time. It ran 24/7. For years.

Then it started shutting down every 15 minutes. No warning. Just off. And with it went IP management, traffic rules, content filters, the kids' internet schedule — everything that the firewall controlled.


Step 1 — Stress Test Before Opening Anything.

IS THE HARDWARE STILL GOOD?

Before pulling a single screw, I needed a baseline. There's no point doing a full teardown on hardware that's already dead. The stress test tells you whether you're dealing with a hardware failure or something else.

The process is simple and requires nothing installed — just a bootable USB with Ubuntu Live. No changes to the machine, no installation, nothing permanent.

What you need:

  • Ubuntu Desktop ISO (ubuntu.com/download/desktop)
  • Rufus to write the USB (rufus.ie)
  • USB drive — 8GB minimum
  • Internet connection on the machine being tested

Creating the bootable USB in Rufus:

  • Select your USB drive
  • Select the Ubuntu ISO
  • Partition scheme: GPT (important for UEFI machines like the NUC)
  • Click Start — takes about 5-10 minutes

Booting the NUC from USB:

  • Connect the USB, power on the NUC
  • Press F10 repeatedly as it boots — this opens the boot menu
  • Select the USB from the list
  • On the Ubuntu screen, choose "Try Ubuntu" — not Install
Ubuntu Live loading on NUC monitor

Once Ubuntu loads, open Terminal and install the two tools you need:

sudo apt update && sudo apt install -y stress-ng lm-sensors
Ubuntu desktop ready on NUC

Reading baseline temperature before the test:

watch -n 1 sensors

This refreshes temperature readings every second. Let it run for a minute until the numbers stabilize — that's your idle baseline. Take a photo. That's your "before."

My NUC at idle:

  • Package: 48°C
  • Core 0: 46°C
  • Core 1: 44°C
sensors output showing idle temperatures 48C

That's high for idle. Normal for a machine with 10+ year old thermal paste that ran 24/7 without maintenance. Not alarming — but confirming that the paste needed replacing regardless of what the test showed.

Running the stress test:

Open a second terminal — keep the first one running with sensors visible — and execute:

stress-ng --cpu 0 --timeout 30m --metrics-brief

--cpu 0 uses all available logical cores. --timeout 30m runs for 30 minutes. If you want a quicker initial test, 10 minutes gives you a solid read — that's what I ran first.

While it runs, watch the sensors window. You'll see temperatures climb within the first minute and then stabilize at a peak. That peak is what matters.

Two terminals running stress test and sensors simultaneously

My results after 10 minutes at 100% CPU:

  • Peak temperature: 64°C
  • Temperature after completion: 50°C — came down on its own
  • Passed: 4/4 cores — Failed: 0

64°C peak under full load, dropping back to 50°C on its own. Zero failures. The hardware passed. Whatever was causing the shutdowns, it wasn't a failing CPU or a broken board.


Step 2 — Taking It Apart.

THE TEARDOWN

Hardware confirmed good. Now it gets opened.

A NUC that's run 24/7 for over a decade without being opened needs maintenance regardless of test results. Dried thermal paste, accumulated dust, oxidized contacts — these are certainties, not possibilities.

What you need for the teardown:

  • Precision screwdriver set — I use the JOREST 40-piece kit. Phillips, Torx, Triwing — everything you need for electronics in one compact set.
  • Isopropyl alcohol 70%+ for cleaning old paste
  • New thermal paste — a rice grain sized amount is enough

  • Tools Used in This Post.

    WHAT I ACTUALLY USED

  • Compressed air or a soft brush for dust
  • A clean, flat surface with good lighting

Opening the NUC D34010WYKH — step by step:

1. Power off completely and disconnect all cables. Not sleep — fully off, power adapter unplugged.

2. Flip the unit upside down. You'll see four rubber feet and four screws underneath them. The screws go through the bottom panel into the chassis.

3. Remove the four bottom screws. Keep them somewhere safe — they're small.

4. Remove the bottom panel. It lifts straight off once the screws are out. The 2.5" drive bay is part of this panel on the WYKH model — if you had a drive installed, it comes out with the panel.

5. The board is now accessible. You'll see the fan, the heatsink, the SO-DIMM RAM slots, and the mSATA slot. Everything is compact — work carefully and don't force anything.

NUC D34010WYKH fully disassembled with all components separated

NUC motherboard exposed showing RAM slots and components

6. Remove the fan connector. Small connector on the board — pull straight up, gently. Don't yank it by the wire.

7. Remove the heatsink screws. There are screws holding the heatsink/fan assembly to the board. Remove them in a cross pattern to release pressure evenly.

8. Lift the heatsink assembly. It may resist slightly if the old paste has hardened and is bonding the surfaces. Twist gently — don't pull straight up with force. Work it loose slowly.

Removing NUC heatsink assembly

NUC heatsink removed showing contact plate

9. This is what you'll find.

CPU with hardened dried thermal paste - 10 years old

That gray, cracked, hardened material on the CPU is thermal paste that has completely dried out. When thermal paste dries, it loses its ability to transfer heat efficiently from the CPU to the heatsink. The CPU runs hotter than it should, thermal throttling kicks in, and in extreme cases the machine shuts down to protect itself.

Mine was almost solid. I needed to work carefully with isopropyl alcohol and a soft cloth to remove it without scratching the CPU surface.


Step 3 — Cleaning Everything.

THE MAINTENANCE

Removing the old thermal paste:

Apply isopropyl alcohol to a lint-free cloth or cotton swab. Work in small circular motions on both surfaces — the CPU and the heatsink contact plate. Take your time. You want both surfaces clean and shiny before applying new paste. Any residue left behind reduces thermal transfer.

NUC board and heatsink on workbench ready for cleaning

Cleaning old thermal paste with cotton swab and isopropyl alcohol

Thermal paste cleaning process second angle

Cleaning the fan:

The fan blades and heatsink fins accumulate dust over time, reducing airflow. Use compressed air or a soft brush to clean between the fins. On a machine this age, you'll find more than you expect.

Heatsink contact plate after cleaning

Cleaning the USB ports and power connector:

This step matters more than people realize. Oxidized contacts on USB ports cause intermittent read errors — the kind that look like software problems but aren't. Spray contact cleaner into each USB port and the power connector. Let it dry completely before reassembly.

Applying new thermal paste:

Less is more. A single dot the size of a grain of rice in the center of the CPU. The pressure from the heatsink will spread it evenly when you reinstall. Don't spread it manually — let the heatsink do it.

Applying new thermal paste - rice grain sized dot on CPU

Reassembly is the reverse of teardown:

  • Heatsink back on — screws in cross pattern, snug but not overtightened
  • Fan connector back in
  • Bottom panel back on
  • Four screws back in
NUC board inspection before reassembly




Step 4 — The Actual Problem.

IT WASN'T THE HARDWARE

After reassembly, I looked at where the NUC had been installed. Old power strip. Bad contact at the socket. Visibly worn — the kind of thing you stop seeing because it's been there for years.

I replaced the entire power strip and moved the NUC to a clean, dedicated connection.

The machine that was shutting down every 15 minutes wasn't failing — it was starving. An old power strip with a bad contact was cutting the supply intermittently. The NUC was doing exactly what it should: shutting down cleanly rather than corrupting data mid-operation.

The USB instability was a combination of both problems — oxidized contacts on a machine that hadn't been opened in years, and the same unstable power causing read errors. After the contact cleaner and the new power connection, the USB ports work cleanly.

NUC board running without case after repair - it works

The fix cost zero dollars and less than an hour. Check the basics before you assume the hardware is dead.


What's Next for This Machine.

HONEST STATUS

The NUC is mechanically sound. The electrical problem is solved. The contacts are clean. The thermal paste is fresh.

What it still needs: storage. OPNsense requires a drive — running a firewall from USB is not acceptable. USB drives aren't designed for the constant read/write cycles a firewall generates. The drive would fail in months. I'm waiting on an SSD before putting OPNsense back on this machine.

And even then — I've made a decision about what role this NUC will play going forward.

A firewall is critical infrastructure. If it goes down, the entire property loses network control instantly. That's not a job for hardware I'm still rebuilding confidence in. The OptiPlex 780 will take OPNsense — more thermal headroom, purpose-built for continuous operation, and stress-tested before deployment.

The NUC earns a secondary role: services that can tolerate an occasional restart. Pi-hole, Wireguard, Immich, Jellyfin. Useful, always-on, but not mission-critical.

A machine doesn't have to be perfect to be useful. It just has to be honest about what it can and can't handle. This NUC has earned a place in the homelab — just not the one I originally planned for it.


What This Actually Taught Me.

THE REAL LESSON

Before opening the NUC, I assumed hardware failure. A 2014 machine running 24/7 for over a decade — it made sense to suspect the CPU, the board, the fan.

The stress test said otherwise. The hardware was fine.

The real problem was an old power strip with bad contact. The fix cost nothing. The maintenance — thermal paste, contact cleaner, cleaning the fan — was overdue regardless and would have been done eventually.

Two things to take from this:

  • Test before you assume. A stress test takes 30 minutes and tells you whether you're diagnosing hardware or environment. Run it before anything else.
  • Check the power. Unstable power is invisible until it's a problem. Old power strips, worn sockets, overloaded circuits — these cause symptoms that look like hardware failures. It's always worth eliminating the obvious before opening the machine.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Every product listed here is something I personally own and use daily.


RELATED POSTS

  • My Network Has No Firewall Right Now. Here's Why That's Temporary. — Post #009
  • 4 Dell OptiPlex 780s Rescued From the Trash. Here's My Plan. — Post #013