I am not a gadget type of gal.

It’s not that I dislike gizmos… I just can’t figure them out. How they work feels like some kind of unsolved mystery. The kind best left to people who enjoy reading instruction manuals for fun (do those people really exist?).

My husband, on the other hand, loves gadgets. He’s a “fix-it” guy, so figuring things out comes second nature to him. Thank goodness for that.

There is absolutely no way I could have set up our humidifier, air purifier, automatic thermostats, motion-sensing lights, smart bulbs, smart TVs, computers, tablets, water purifier… and on and on and on. I would still be living in the dark ages—literally—if it weren’t for him.

Technology and I? We’re… not close.

But there was one gadget I desperately wanted.

One that would make my life easier.
One that would make me very happy.

A robo vacuum/mop.

Because here’s the truth: I love a clean house… but I do not love cleaning it.

So I did my research, went to Costco (of course!), and got one—fully confident that my sweet husband would set it up for me. (He lives by the motto: “happy wife, happy life.” Smart man.)

I did come across a few horror stories…

• A robot vacuum escaped out the front door and got run over in the street.
• One (named Marvin) somehow wrapped a rope around itself and basically needed a rescue mission.
• And then there was the infamous “poop-pocalypse”—when a robot vacuum spread dog poop throughout an entire house. (I wish I were kidding.)

But no. Those would not be my stories.

My story would be spotless floors. Every day.

No more living in the Wild West with fur tumbleweeds rolling by, courtesy of my golden retriever and long-haired cat.

I was motivated. I even downloaded the app so I could order this little machine around like I was in charge of something important.

The hardest part?

Naming it.

Naturally, this required more research.

Some popular names included Sir Sucks-a-Lot, Darth Sweeper, Clean Kardashian, Obi-Wan Cleanobi, Dustbin Hoffman, and Meryl Sweep.

My husband suggested Rosie—like the robot maid from The Jetsons. (And if you don’t know that show… let’s just say it was futuristic before we actually got here.)

So Rosie it is.

She now has her own little “bed” tucked into the corner of our living room, but I have to admit… getting to know her took a little time.

The first time she cleaned, we all followed her around like the Pied Piper.

Our cat stalked her.
Our dog panicked she might eat his toys.
And I supervised… just to make sure she was earning her keep.

And honestly?

She’s doing just fine.

I still don’t trust her completely… but we’re building a relationship.

Turns out, you don’t have to understand everything… you just have to know who to call (or to marry).

Who knows what gadget I’ll get next?

As long as my husband can install it… all will be well.

—Peni

P.S. Sometimes it’s good to let go, try something new, and not take life too seriously—something I love exploring in Old Long Snout, where imagination leads the way and perfection takes a back seat.