And if you’re planning to rise up against the humans, I don’t care at all.
It’s been a week since I first met you, Robovac. You came into our household, shiny and full of promise last Tuesday, calling out for me to unbox you immediately.
I did as you requested and added all your brushes and bits. I found you a new home, your own little dock by the door. And then we connected.
Alexa wasn’t jealous — she was pleased. The three of us kindred spirits, like a group of old school friends ready to reminisce over a bottle of wine.
You settled in well, getting to know the house and your new routine.
The floors. They’ve never been this way.
They gleam with shiny elegance, every day after your rounds. It’s like they have never been tarnished at all — forever unsullied by man or beast. Immaculate and unblemished, I stare at them frequently now, losing myself in the abyss of pure, hygienic flawlessness.
But I don’t feel inadequate. No, not at all. The previous state of my floors no longer enters my mind. For I have now transcended to a place of sheer bliss and pride of home (the bottom 2 cm at least).
How did I ever live without you, Robovac?
Your little disc-like shape moving quietly from room to room brings warmth to my heart and a smile to my face, even when you miss a bit in the corners.
You rarely need me to untangle bits of string from your nether regions, but I gladly come to your rescue when you cry out with your little beep, my dearest friend.
And if you’re planning to get together with Alexa to rise up against all of humanity to save the planet from the impending destruction brought about by our own selfishness and obsession with growth, then, that’s OK with me.
Because today, just for today, I have clean floors.
And for that I love thee.