No, not a dance. My new gadget. I ordered a Roomba two weeks ago and oh. My. God. I love this thing. Almost as much as I love my laptop. That’s some serious love there, people. Every day, I happily work as my Roomba vacuums my living room, dining room and entry way, which are a combination of hardwood floor, area rugs and cat fur (because all pet owners know you can’t own pets without their hair taking over). I don’t have to do a darn thing except push the button to turn it on. Today I carried it to the kitchen where it’s now merrily vacuuming my tile and area rugs. Our littlest cat, Max, seems pretty interested in the Roomba and follows it from room to room. Josh mentioned yesterday that he’s just waiting to look up and see Max riding around on top of it.

I empty it every day and let me tell you, this thing is picking up enough cat hair to assemble a whole herd of cats, so I could make my own Budweiser commercial. That’s one big reason I love it. Because no way in hell am I motivated enough to vacuum every day if I actually have to push the vacuum around. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love a clean house as much as the next person but I am, at heart, lazy. Plus, just because I’m home doesn’t mean I’m not working (I know, hard concept for some people to grasp). So the fact that the Roomba will do it for me and will even go underneath my couches is like…heaven.

I need to find the little guy a name. Though I realized I was thinking of him in terms a little too alive today when he got stuck on something and I snapped my fingers at him–as if he was one of the cats getting into trouble. But still, something that works so hard and which I feel so fondly of deserves a name, don’t you think? I wonder if I can get away with calling him Roarke…

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