Another June arrived much too quickly, bringing a new opportunity to dog-sit for several of my fur grandbabies. Hazel, the large, elderly boxer, isn’t as much of a challenge these days. But the active min pin “R-threesome” – Rubble, Remi, and Reign – can be a handful. We make countless backyard visits, followed by countless reward treats. And yet an occasional potty accident still follows. They probably spend too much of their outdoor time peering under the fence at the dog next door, chasing butterflies, and lying in the sun instead of taking care of their potty business. But all the dogs are fun and affectionate, and they love to snuggle.
This time, I had four Rs to contend with. An entirely new challenge had entered the equation: Roomba. My daughter, son-in-law, and I discussed it. They could have just disabled the sleek, round cleaning robot for the time being. But for a long vacation, I would feel compelled to do some floor cleaning under my own steam. Although I often resist change and was tempted to stick with a broom, dustpan, and mop, I took the plunge, chose Roomba, and took part in a focused training session. Upon completion, I felt confident that I could do this!
Once on our own, we started out fine. I knew the pre-programmed times. Around 8:00 AM, the robot would clean the front rooms, and closer to noon, it would make a clean sweep of the other downstairs rooms. The dogs willingly waited in their crates with the promise of a treat. Daily, I moved any small items that could get in the way, refilled the water compartment, and washed the cleaning pad. Roomba’s voice announced what I had accomplished, then did its thing at the preset times. I slipped a bit when I occasionally forgot to refill the water. No problem. The Roomba would still dry-clean the floor.
I have been known to chuckle at people who carry on conversations with their Alexa or name their ChatGPT “assistants.” But I caught myself talking to this spinning sphere, which I now called “Roamy.” It was like having an additional critter in the house.
Imagine my dismay, late one morning, when I realized Roamy hadn’t completed the cleaning cycle and was nowhere to be found. Could the robot have made it upstairs? Or did it get out somehow when the dogs and I were going into the backyard? Feeling silly, I called its name and, of course, heard no reply. I eventually found the dark disk sitting silently in a corner of the office, not far from its recharging station. It wasn’t hiding, but stuck! I must have moved that corner chair out of position, making the over-achieving orb “think” it could clean back there and get out safely. But no. That didn’t work, and I had to rescue Roamy from its predicament.
And then there was the time Roamy didn’t appear at the assigned hour, and I discovered I had closed the office door. By the time I realized this, the resolute robot had returned to its station. But I pictured it, knocking its determined plastic body against the door, trying to force its way through. Had it called out to me in despair?
But I still faced the biggest challenge yet. One day, soon after virtuously refilling the water, rinsing the pad, and removing some hair twisted around the brushes, Roamy successfully made its rounds on the floor. But then, not much later, the diligent disk detached itself from the charging station and made another round. Maybe I misunderstood my training, and the scheduled times varied by day of the week? Never mind. I redirected the surprised dogs so they wouldn’t interfere and let Roamy do its thing. No problem, or so I thought.
But then, the whole cycle restarted just an hour or two later! There was Roamy, rolling across the floor again. I was getting tired of having to move my feet from under the dining table, where I sit to write and edit. But Roamy was gently nudging my toes out of its path. By the end of the day, I lost count of how many times this confused contraption had made its circuit. I was having trouble concentrating on my work. Something had to be done.
I didn’t want to bother my vacationing family with what should have been a trivial and easily resolved issue. I turned to Google. The only possible answer I found was that I accidentally hit the clean/power button during my part of the device’s maintenance and had confused it. The suggestion was to push and hold the button to reboot. I had nothing to lose, took a deep breath, and pressed the button. I wouldn’t know for sure until the next morning whether I had interfered with or blanked out the set times. Just in case, I closed the office door so the robot wouldn’t roam around the house during the night!
Much to my delight, at 8:00 the next morning, I heard Roamy’s cheerful voice and familiar whirring sounds heading my way. My plan had been a success. All was right with the world. Maybe I CAN roll with the times and move into the future!
As I earlier said, I often resist change, but a major transformation awaited me just around the corner. Later in June, I left Frisco behind and moved to New Braunfels, in Texas Hill Country. There’s no robot waiting to help with the cleaning, but several of my other fur grandbabies (both canine AND feline) will keep my life interesting!
Platform Number 4 