women of a certain age are like sunflowers; they know how to turn their faces to the sun.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

No One Cares What You Had for Lunch

I ran across this little gem the other day: a workshop for writers about our wonderful world of blogging, titled, "No One Cares What You Had for Lunch." While I might argue with the absoluteness of the appellation, "No one," (After all, you can generally find someone out there who cares about anything. The trick is finding them!) I cannot argue with the sentiment behind the title. Things we find interesting may have little or no relevance to the lives of others.

On the other hand, things we think are mundane may touch a chord in someone else, triggering, if not a lifetime transformation, at least a sigh of recognition or a mordant chuckle. Who knows?

For the record, I didn't eat lunch yesterday.

But if I had, I would have consumed a turkey sandwich on whole grain bread with fat free mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato, with an apple thrown in for extra brownie points.

Wait a minute...

Did someone say, "brownie?"

Who am I kidding? I would have grabbed whatever left-overs were hiding in the nether realms of the fridge. You know, that part at the back where the wild things grow...where the turkey from Thanksgiving keeps company with the cranberries from Christmas and the shrimp cocktail from New Year's Eve.

Gee, I had no idea my fridge was so...festive! It almost makes it a shame to clean it out.

Almost.

But it DOES make a handy excuse for the next time my husband opens the freezer door and things fall out on top of him.

Now, I have posted before on my, shall we say, RELAXED attitude towards cleaning. I enjoy a clean house as well as the next person. I just have better things to do with my day. Who doesn't?

(Actually, I know the answer to that one: my dear departed mother-in-law, who famously began her first visit to our first apartment on her knees cleaning out our bathtub because, "You obviously don't have the time to do these things." I had cleaned it the day before. Or THOUGHT I did...)

The world is divided into two groups of people: those to whom cleanliness is their default setting, with momentary messiness occurring now and then; and those to whom cleanliness appears to be a miracle of God (or the results of nocturnal toiling by the Lysol elves.)

I am firmly in the latter camp. I am so firmly in that camp that I dispute the word, "camp." After all, "camp" implies a certain transitory aspect. I don't camp. I have established permanent residency.

So, I bet you all got fabulous gifts of yarn, and books, and woolly stuff for Christmas.

I got this:
A Roomba robotic vacuum cleaner.

I choose to accept this gift in the spirit in which it was intended: as my hubby's desire to make my world a better place by alleviating my allergic symptoms, which are aggravated by dust, pet hair, and fibers. Also my bad back, which is aggravated by the bent-over posture required during vacuuming.

Yeah, that's it...

He couldn't possibly be impugning my vacuuming credentials, could he?

So this little robot charges around my house of its own volition for an hour and then automatically shuts itself down until I activate it again at the push of a button.

(Hubby knows I appreciate technological simplicity. He remembers the whole thermostatic fiasco.)

Two things have changed as a result of this recent acquisition:
  1. I now share a house with FOUR ambulatory beings, one husband, two cats, and a robot maid.
  2. A new phrase has entered my lexicon: "Honey, I lost the vacuum cleaner."
I no longer have to clean the floors.

But I DO have to uncover them. They haven't yet invented a robot that will pick up your belongings, rather than vacuum around them or, worse, over them.

Not that this Christmas was entirely a knit-free zone. I did receive these lovelies from my ever-l0vin' daddy:




That's ten skeins of Pear Tree 12 ply wool in "Winter Robin's Egg." Yumm!







Yesterday, I gave Roomba the acid test: a little jaunt around my studio floor.

The cat watched...





From a safe distance (This thing can't climb stairs, can it?)

Wuss!

16 comments:

Linda said...

It's a good thing the rhoomba can't climb stairs or it would have eaten that lovely yarn I see sitting there :-). What a beautiful cat you have! I grew up with and simply adore siamese cats!! I enjoy reading your blog, thank you.

Anna said...

You will grown to adore your roomba! I've had one for a couple of years and just love it!

teabird said...

I wish my husband would give me a roomba... I'm like you: allergies, bad back, aversion to scrubbing things with toothbrushes. A cute little vacuum purring around (does it go around your legs and do bumpsies like a cat?) would be Ever So Nice...

Carie said...

My friend Mary loves her Roomba so much she considers it a pet - she's trying to work out how to make a little shower-cap shaped hat to fit it with a face or a duck or a cat etc on it so that she can have a variety of active pets!

Lucia said...

I'll bet the roomba is cheaper than a cleaning crew, which is what we have weekly to force us to pick our junk up off the floor. (I'll bet the roomba doesn't hide things, though.)

Beautiful cat.

askatknits said...

Hmmm, can I borrow your maid????? I also am in the later of the camps that is not a camp at all. And, for the record - camping for me is the Holiday Inn. :-)

punkin said...

Ouch! Your mother-in-law said that?!

I would like to try a Roomba. I was a little skeptical about the durability at first, but I always here good things about them.

Bea said...

oooo...my husband just got us one of those too. I love it!

TheBlackSheep said...

My aunt got a Roomba from my uncle as a gift. She did want one, but she knows he did it because it's a mechanical toy. He loves it more than she. The dog hates it.

Just don't let it get the yarn!

knitonlybutalso said...

Hmmm vacuum cleaner - well I guess it was done with love, my husband gave me soap (what is the underlying subtext when people give you soap - do they think one smells?), I gave him and the three offspring the better part of two months wages to take them to Barcelona for a week, next time I may leave him at home. I'm glad someone gave you yarn (and very pretty it is too), happy knitting in 2008.

Kim said...

What a cool gift! If you can't afford a maid, this sounds like the next best thing. Now if I could get my DH to give me one of those, I think I would smile. I HATE cleaning...LOL

Donna Lee said...

Cleaning is so boring. Things just get dirty again. The only thing I dislike more is ironing. When I iron something, I want it to hang in the closet in all it's pristine glory for a long while before someone wears it. Does that happen. No. When I am feeling indulgent, I take the clean shirts to the local laundry and let them iron them. They do a better job anyway.

Caroline said...

What a great post! I do care what you "almost" had for lunch the day that you didn't have it. I'm with you on the turkey sandwich, but even though I'm not really a mayo person, I just don't think it's right for you to use fat-free mayo when it's only your imaginary lunch:)

La Cabeza Grande said...

Well, you went and did it again! You made me laugh. Out loud.

Enjoy the Jetson's life with your Rosie the Roomba.

Julie said...

"Honey, I lost the vacuum cleaner." Bwahahahaha. Excellent.

My husband does the sweeping because I broke my wrist years ago and can't push the vacuum. I think I like your method better.

Beautiful cat.

Gioia said...

Brilliant!

I needed a good laugh.

Just remember a clean house is a sign of a wasted life.

Or, as my 84 year old maiden aunt, (who has more cats than you can count, and more stashes of yarn, fabric, books, plants, etc than should be legal) likes to say, "Cleaning makes you ugly."