"Please free my brush of debris," he beeps politely. Again. And again, we ignore him and eventually nudge him back to his base to make sure he's charged for tomorrow's aborted attempt to rid our lives of household dust and kitty litter.
|Chouji, the Roomba|
I've begun sweeping again, with a broom. It has a long handle and takes arm muscles to make work. The novelty of doing manual labor the old fashioned way wore off quickly. I try to talk other people into clearing brush-debris.
"I'm glad Neato's broken, his motor's too loud," grumbles my daughter, every time I complain.
"Then come use this old timey broom-thingy and do his job," says I. She laughs. Neato, 6 inches from his base and frozen there, beeps a reminder that he's ready to get back to work, just as soon as we clear his brush.
I sigh and take a swipe with the broom across the dinning room floor. Life shouldn't be this hard.