Things I Dislike

Roombas.

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.

Images via Tie Dye Quartet, Apartment Therapy, Animal Tumblr.