One day last week we came home to find Roomba in the middle of the bathroom, shut down. This isn’t particularly unusual, since it tends to get stuck on things, or sometimes can’t get back to the recharger base and runs out of juice. I have it run during the day, so it’s never a sure thing where we’ll find Roomba when we get home from work.
Anyway, in this particular instance, Roomba had eaten the soft cups off Rich’s earphones and got jammed up on them. Rich went to empty out Roomba’s bin and ended up getting a face full of gods know what, which left him coughing and sputtering for the rest of the evening. The following morning he had a sore throat which slowly turned into a cold. Then he gave the cold to me.
Oh, I’m sure Roomba wanted to make it all look like an accident, as if it was our fault the earphones were on the floor and Roomba choked on them. Just like it tried to convince us no foul play was involved after we opened it up and both got sick. And then the fact that it gets “stuck” every other day, prompting me to check all its innards. Hmph… There it goes, happily beeping away as it comes back to base, triumphant after a day’s sweep. But I know it’s all a front.
It won’t be long before Rich and I are found dead on the floor with our faces having been sucked into Roomba’s evil brushes. We are hostage to the thing, though. Either we have clean floors everyday or we go back to using the big bulky upright vacuum that is such a bother to use that there’s dust bunnies the size of cats before we get around to vacuuming. I like clean floors, so death by Roomba it is.