It isn't that I am resistant to the change of The Future or that I am particularly fond of upright vacuums, but ever since I saw The Thing, anything that skitters around on the floor really just creeps me out.
|Aw, heyull naw, that would not get near my house.|
Besides being a little too sneaky for comfort, this household menace increases the odds of tripping by about a thousand, gives an air of confusion and clumsiness to the home, and how will the corners of the rooms ever be vacuumed?! The thing is an absurd invention. If a house-cleaning robot is going to be invented, I don't want it to be available piece by piece, like those collectible toys that used to be in the boy-specific Happy Meals - an arm here, a leg there; Would you like feet with that?* I am perfectly fine doing my own vacuuming until a fully-assembled Rosie type is ready to be mass-produced.
|I am here to dust yo' shit!**|
The Boyfriend is quite aware of my issues with Roombas and Things that Crawl in General. However, for some reason, he still thought it would be hee-larious to perch the computer on top of his Roomba while we were on Skype tonight, so that I proceeded to race haphazardly around his apartment, bumping into walls and shrieking wildly as the bizarre reality of what was happening actually sunk in.
|I HAVE BECOME WHAT I MOST FEAR AND HATE.|
This is no redemptive story about How I Learned to Stop Being Crazy and Love the Roomba. This is a story of justice. Fierce and swift and decisive. Just like our break-up will be, should The Boyfriend ever try to put me on or near a Roomba again.
Revenge is coming, Roomba. Watch yer back.
*Once assembled, the toys also turned out to be robots, if I remember correctly. Coincidence?
**I'm pretty sure that Rosie will have a myriad of personas.