The box sat in the corner unopened for days. Perhaps we knew once opened, the contents of that box would change our lives forever, so it was critical to get the timing just right.
For in that carton was a robotic vacuum and all of my happiness.
I do sort of hate that I am old now and thrilled by a good, sturdy appliance. Pretty soon I will be talking non-stop about the weather and the good old days. But I won’t be vacuuming while I do it.
Well, the truth is, I never vacuumed in the first place. So the joy derived from this machine is more in the variety of not having to listen to everyone else whining about vacuuming. It’s not easy to get fired from household chores in your abode, but I did it.
I got demoted from Hoover duty within months of being married. I was smart enough to nab a man who simply cares way more than I do about the state of our floors at any given time. He ran that vac much like he mowed the lawn—meticulously—leaving perfectly straight lines in his wake.
My lame skills didn’t stand a chance.
Once we had kids, we developed age-appropriate chores to be done weekly. Now the boys are responsible for bathrooms, trash duty and the vacuum. The only job they whine about?
My children, apparently, have not inherited their father’s love of all things clean. Every weekend it was an epic battle about who was going to be the chump vacuuming the main level. I tried to keep track so no one suffered two weeks in a row. But my math skills are on par with my vacuuming skills so often I lost count.
I was tired of listening to my kids complain. I was tired of listening to my husband complain about the kids complaining. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to break my “no vac” streak and do it myself.
**I have to digress for a moment and give a big, fat shout-out to our parents who lived full, productive lives despite the inability to buy something without ever leaving the house, let alone the option of having it delivered in 24 hours. This sort of fortitude and can-do attitude is commendable.**
When the box arrived, I had no idea what was in it. Once discovered, though, I simply stared at it with a mix of trepidation and awe. It is an amazing concept but I couldn’t picture how it actually worked. I was skeptical with so many questions about the stairs, my furniture and doors.
Well, after one rotation around the dining room I was a believer. My husband explained that the robot would free us up to do other things.
You know, other important things. Things like watching the robotic vacuum. We were all mesmerized. Everyone but the dog, that is. The dog was sure that this machine must be stopped immediately or great harm would come to everyone he loved.
If it came down to picking the dog or the robot that ended the vacuum war forever, I would be in quite a pickle.
Because, let me tell you, once you remove the filter and empty the little canister, it is pure robot love. That circular disc manages to pick up a crap ton of dirt as it bumps along its way. We run it several times a week now and even the dog has gotten used to the intrusion. It is that good.
I had become Jane Jetson; all futuristic and gadgety and there was no going back.
Now, if we could just invent an electronic device that cleans the toilet after three boys with bad aim, my life would really be transformed.
Amazon, are you listening?