Fun For The Whole Family
On a lark, my husband and I decided that since we had new faux-hardwood floors, we totally needed a Roomba.
I'll pause here for a moment, so you may laugh and point.
I know. Nobody NEEDS a robotic vacuum, but come on! It is a lazy person's best friend, and I am a lazy, lazy woman.
So we purchased it. And we've been using it. And it rocks. It's just like a regular member of the family now. Except it actually cleans up and doesn't talk back.
The goal of this type of thing is apparently to turn it on, and walk away. It will clean, so you can do something else. The problem is this: I turn it on, and then stand around and watch it work. Never mind the fact that I could be washing dishes while it vacuums the living room. Heck, I could be sitting somewhere with my feet up, reading a tabloid and eating bon-bons. But no.
My inner geek is enthralled by watching this frisbee drive around, ricocheting off walls and furniture. It feels a bit like those photos of families in the 1930s, watching their radios as they listened to a favorite show.
Since my oldest child became mobile, I have cursed their psychotic need to run around the area that is being cleaned, flapping their arms and SQUEELing like hyperactive rodents. Whether the thorough redistribution of dirt is their ultimate goal is irrelevant. It. Makes. Me. Nuts.
Now, they chase the Roomba. Hah! It works in mysterious ways, so they trip along behind the damn thing like it's the mother ship, frequently bodychecking one another into stationary objects when the vacuum zigs or zags. Yeah, they'll spread the dirt around, but hey! The thing keeps working until it gets it all, so WHATEVAH.
If I had known that this thing would be such a hit, I would have just skipped getting the dog.