I love my Neato robot vacuum. I’ll admit I named him.
Yes. Him. Rocky.
Rocky is actually the second (used/reconditioned) one we’ve had. The first I named Rosie after the robot on the Jetsons. Everyone who grew up watching the Jetsons wanted a robot. And a spaceship.
Anyway, Rosie, the vacuum, was wonderful. Yes, was. Unfortunately, Rosie has gone on to her reward.
I’ve never loved vacuuming, but even if you do (and I won’t believe you if you tell me that) I’ll assume you don’t have the patience to go over and over the same spot every day. That’s what it takes to get up the dirt. Stuff you see perching on top of the rug is not dirt. It’s camouflage for what’s lurking beneath. You vacuum a spot quickly, thinking you’re done, while the real enemy skulks at the base of your carpet fibers. Waiting. Just waiting.
Rosie would fill her dust bin (robot vacuums think in British English not American English) every time she ran. Every day. Now that’s dedication. No knocking off for a spot of tea in the middle of the job.
Rosie had a bit of bad luck with some water, so we got another (used) one. While Rosie was quiet and gentle, Rocky was loud and obnoxious. Then I realized Rocky came with some weird beater bar already installed that I’ve never seen the need of. Strange, extra parts that come with things quickly get stuck in a box under the bed in the spare room. Now Rocky sounds just like Rosie did. He’ll beep every once in a while, but for the most part he’s quiet.
He did get into trouble today. He rolled into the bathroom and tried to suck up the borax I put out for the ants. He tracked it everywhere. It was like having another dog in the house. Except his fur is on the inside and he doesn’t yap at squirrels. Also, unlike the dogs, Rocky cleans up after himself.
I think my husband’s a little obsessed with these vacuums because he decided Rocky needed a friend and bought a brand new Roly. Rolybot got confused easily. She never could find her way home when it was time to clock out for the day. I took her to visit my daughter. When I brought her home she just spun in circles. What’s up with that? Did she like it better over there and decided to throw a tantrum?
I pulled the plug. Don’t judge me. She already would do inconvenient things like wedge herself under the recliner and demand (yes, she talked) that I come rescue her. Now. Right now. She rolled up the side of things and tried to balance, too. Acrobatics. On my time. On top of being mouthy.
I’ve got enough trouble without being ordered about by the help.