Call me a giver.
Oh my darling Roomba. How you’ve changed my life.
Can you help me out here? I’m stuck under the dresser. I got in. There has to be a way to get out.
Some people say you are just an appliance, but what we share is so much greater than that.
What the hell is that?! I don’t want to know. Repeat the mantra. Don’t look, just sweep. Don’t look, just sweep.
Thanks to you, what was once sullied is now clean. Chaos has become harmony.
Thanks to you my tank is always full. Really, my tank is full. Could you empty it already? Honestly, how are your cats not bald? I could knit a sweater with what I pick up your bedroom alone.
You even put yourself away.
Speaking of the cats, where are they? Just when they think they’re safe under the bed. Hel-lo kitty! It never gets old. I swear I have more intelligence than they do.
I never knew it could be like this.
I’m glad you’re happy. Seems like all I do is run into walls. I’m tired. Crap. Extension cord. Let go, you Neanderthal.
I’ll tell you what. When you’re done, I’m happy to push the dock button.
How big of you. Our relationship is a little unbalanced, don’t you think?
I’m not sure what I can do about that.
Lock me in a room with the cats. And dress them in shark suits.
Can I watch?
You’re a sick woman.
If that’s true, perhaps you could bring a few friends into our little love nest? A drone that dusts, perhaps, or a Zamboni that picks up all the stuff my family leaves behind?
Yeah. I’ll get right on that.
Just make sure you keep me happy.
Is that a threat?
Have you seen the Fitbit lately?
No, can’t say I have.
Neither have I. Let that be a lesson for you. It talked smack once too. Anything else you’d like to add?
Do-do-do-dooot! Your room is clean.
Oh Roomba. You say the sweetest things.
Words by J. B. Everett
Photograph, “Roomba” by Juliette Culver © 2010 courtesy of Creative Commons/Flickr