Sunday, July 6, 2008

behold: my robot army begins!

Today, continuing a 3-weekend run of totally being the cheese to my macaroni, Craig bought me a Roomba. So I now have my own robot vacuum cleaner, which I have named Rosie, in my hopes that she is the harbinger of an entire Jetson-esque lifestyle of push-button bathrooms, dog walkers, and meals in pill form.

Oh, and, just to make sure, it's a ROOMBA. Not a Woomba. It's gonna clean my business, but *definitely* not my lady business. That would totally mess up Thursday's ultrasound.

Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out to my sweet husband who shares my plans of world domination by janitorial robot and also supports the fact that I shouldn't be carrying 50-pound vacuums up the stairs in my delicate condition.

3 comments:

delilah said...

Should I be concerned that a 5-pound robot is 100 times better at vacuuming than I am? Seriously. Rosie is totally OCD and does a marvelous job. You just press the button, listen to her tootle like R2D2 on smack, and leave the house. And return to clean floors.

I am... uh... floored.

Emile said...

Really? Does it work that well? Maybe I should get one too...I was skeptical. Where do you buy them?

delilah said...

Craig got ours at Lowe's. I did not ask how much it cost, because I don't want to know. It appears to be having problems with our upstairs banister, but our living room and bedroom have honestly not looked this good since we moved in.

To tell you the truth, I am surprised.

When he brought it home, I gave him the same bemused expression I imagine some 70's housewife gave the first husband to bring home a microwave.

Sure, it looks like a cute little toy, honey, but I need to cook dinner now...