An Introduction to the Roomba

In light of the sudden explosion of social activities, Zelly and I had a rather low-key Halloween. Instead of getting in costume and prowling for candy, we did the responsible thing: Cleaned, sorted, and swapped summer clothes with warm winter ones.

As I picked the Roomba up off its charging dock, Zelly hopped onto my shoulder to see what I was doing. "What's that?" he inquired.

"This is a Roomba. Engineered by Hell's Robotic Division, it is the oficial vacuum of the damned. It preys upon human flesh, and sometimes it screams like Peter Murphy in the middle of the night. The Roomba is, in a word, evil. In three words, it's pure, unadulterated evil. You'd be best to stay away from it. I don't want to have to bury you in the pet cemetery."

Oblivious to my numerous pop culture references and stern warning, he asked if he could ride it. Apparently, he wanted to show the Roomba that it's not the most evil thing in existence. Figuring that Zelly could keep its attention away from chasing me around the room in its usual fashion, I cautiously obliged.

After violently throwing him off, the Roomba decided to wedge itself underneath my bed. I hate when it does that most of all.

Zelly started whining that the Roomba wouldn't pay attention to him anymore, so I gave him a new toy to play with.

I had crocheted that octopus sometime during the summer, and it had fallen behind my bed at some point. It was enough to distract Zelly for the rest of the afternoon, and he's been sleeping with it at night. I still haven't figured out if that's adorable or slightly disturbing.