Sunday, September 1, 2013

Who is Master

The robot vacuum. Surely, you know some putz who has bought into this idea. I am such putz. It's a fantastically awesome idea in theory. Buy a small robotic vacuum, let it run around your house and clean up all the shit you dragged in. Ahhh, sit back and relax ... In theory.

It doesn't quite work like that in practice. Let's start with the size of the dirt container. Pocket lint can fill this fucker up. If you have pets or kids prepare to empty this sucker once a day. How often do you empty an upright. Relaxing yet?

Let's move on to operation. Got furniture? I do. This little bastard gets stuck between dining room chairs, under cabinets and under the sofa. When stuck it will sit their beeping at you like the helpless moronic child it is. At first you feel sorry and help it along. After a couple of months, you just decide to leave it alone. Let the little shit beep all night. I'm done. Relaxing yet?

Turns out, if you have hardwood or tile, the sensors on my model can't handle the reflection. Therefore, it goes into a robotic downward spiral trying to navigate its way around. Often, it will stop in front of my aquarium and start beeping with a message that states I should clear it's path. Yah, let me move the fuckin fish tank for you asshole. Relaxing yet?

So as needy as this little piece of robotic trash is, I ask myself who is master. Sure as hell ain't me!

No robots were harmed in the making of this story.

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