I am sure that those who know me think I came up with this topic, The Hairy Thing That Lurks Under My Bed, because I actually do have one (see above example: Niko Vom Kiernan), and I spend a large portion of my daily life cleaning up after it. My family has heard it. My friends are tired of listening to it.
For the record, I didn’t invent this topic, and iRobot might just ensure that I never have to bore my acquaintances with it again (sorry, friends and family, I still plan on boring you with other topics…health insurance, anyone?). Because I have fallen in love and love cures all, though technically, I’m torn between two lovers. The objects of my rapture?
No, they’re not dances, and I’m sure I couldn’t overcome my innate clumsiness if they were. They are, rather, gifts from the Clean and Tidy Gods. We have a small house, devoid of rugs, even of the “area” sort, and our small house has a lot of angles. Do you know what a Niko does to a house that size with all those corners to catch…stuff? Don’t tell me about your kids, don’t tell me about your messy husband or your precious long-haired dachshund**.
We’re talking about a 120 pound, constantly shedding (undercoat, overcoat, down-filled coat, mohair coat), drooling, flapping, farting, burping, yarking machine here folks. Okay, maybe she’s a little like a husband, but still, she doesn’t bring a paycheck home to make up for it. The point is: this is not a dog, this is a troll. She should live under a bridge and scare small children for a living. (No such luck, small children love her, and she loves them…for dinner, haha, er, no, not really.)
But this is a love story.
Roomba. Three pounds of silver salvation, this sucker glides effortlessly though the house, bumping its curvaceous nose into baseboards, spinning its elegant little tassel off the side to collect from the corners, and making adorable little musical beeps to let me know that it is stuck under the treadmill and would I please come free it so it can continue to serve me.
Scooba. Five pounds of light blue loveliness. I add a little solution, a little water, and off it goes. It too has a curvaceous nose, though it is built more solidly, this baby’s got back, and it ain’t afraid to use it. It’s also brilliant. I set up my laser beams (cool, huh?) and it knows to stay off the wood floors; I accidentally leave it too long without emptying its tank and it lets me know; I pretend to not hear it and it gently insists.
Under my beds? Dust free. Corners? Fur free. Tile? Drool free. My time? Just plain free. Oh, yes, it is love, and if lovin’ robots is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.
So tell me, what’s in your corners?
**Okay, you have to go to this site just to see the really-cute-for-about-3 seconds-and-then-incredibly-irritating-mousetrailer.
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