At the moment, if you visit our house, I will offer (gushingly) to introduce you to the new love of my life.
Indeed, he might be pottering about in the hallway as you enter.
He is a small robot vacuum cleaner. We did try out some names, but have settled on 'The little chap', said in an affectionate tone.
Hoovering was previously my job. And indeed, I still do the stairs as the robot cleaner has the same limitations as a dalek.
But thanks to the little robot, I am now freed of the anxiety that my mother-in-law might come calling on a day when I haven't hoovered (most days, in fact).
My friends fear that as a result of this automated home help I may lose muscle tone and become decadent. I, however, find there is still plenty of housework to be done. The house will now get dusted more often, in theory at least.
No, my only worry is that the robot hoover originates in China. The Chinese now have maps of both my upstairs and my downstairs, information vital to their plan for world domination.
Plus, they now know exactly how much dust there was under our bed, a matter previoisly covered by the official secrets act.
No comments:
Post a Comment