philosophy at age eight

“If you cannot control your peanut butter, you cannot expect to control your life.”
~ Judah-ism

Sunday, March 23, 2014

dear diary

Today is the 3 week mark of Neato's brush becoming clogged with debris. Each afternoon, he wheels out of his base, revs up to take on the world of household debris, and realizes -- once again -- that his brush is stuck.

"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 tried once to free his brush around week 1, but couldn't figure out how to open him up. Neato's predecessor, Chouji the Roomba, was so straightforward. I am bitter, but apathetically. Johnny's our household mechanic, and will probably eventually notice the problem around week 5 and fix it in a jiffy. Until then, I silently feel sorry for myself.

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.

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