My wife found me sitting on the floor in the kitchen, drinking coffee — sighing.
“What’s wrong?” She said.
Looking around, things weren’t terrible. The house was in good order, dishes were done, everything was clean, and mostly picked up. I couldn’t really complain. We have a great housekeeper who takes care of all the big things every other week. All we have to do is clean up after ourselves, but…I was in the middle of a new book, and at that weird point where I start fixating on things that, truth be told, no one else really notices.
It’s a sickness that straddles the backs of both writer’s block and procrastination. One where I find myself walking from point A (anywhere) to point B (the scene I’m in the middle of that I already know how to finish), when “Bam!” I have to immediately stop and do something completely random, inconsequential, and stupid — that’s, for no reason, sudden the number one thing on my to do list. And I can’t look away, or stop.
“Cat hair.” That was how I answered my wife’s question. “Cat hair’s everywhere.” We have two cats and some was, and the dark hardwood floors we have were a little dusty, and bits of garlic parchment — forensic evidence of the dinner I’d made the night before, clung hidden from sight against the cabinet baseboards. In a place that only I could see, while sitting on the floor, drinking my coffee, and sighing.
This wasn’t an unknown problem. It was a simple equation I didn’t even have to solve for “X.” Animals + dark wood floors = more vacuuming/more tolerance toward hairy floors. I wasn’t either, and my teenagers weren’t consistent enough to make the problem I was fixated on go away.
“What do you want to do about it? I could call one of the boys to vacuum?” My wife asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee and pulling out a kitchen chair. It disturbed the undergrowth and I watched a dust bunny chase after her chair followed by a clump of cat hair pursuing the bunny. My wife sat in the chair, sipped her coffee, and split her time between updating Facebook and watching me.
I sighed. “No. That won’t solve the problem.” I thought about it. “What we really need are catgirl maids.” I said it without really thinking about it, or their care and upkeep. A brigade of cute, semi-furry professionals. Well versed, and experienced, in cat hair containment.
What I was thinking of was something like this:
I was still lost in thought thinking about finally getting up off the floor, and getting another cup of coffee, when Jodi said. “Catgirls aren’t really a thing. If they are, you can’t buy, adopt, or enter a service contract with them, even with Amazon Prime. So, sorry babe. Plus, even if they were, you’d be too distracted to finish your new book.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Sigh.
“How would you feel about a robot? And stop sighing.”
“I would actually feed good pretty good about a robot, if the right technology is finally here.”
I had warm childhood robot memories that looked something like this:
Five minutes later, Jodi ordered me a robot. I was actually excited enough about it to get up off the floor, and get back to writing. The next day a small box arrived, and my wife gave our robot it’s first charge. It was nothing like the maid-bot I was looking forward to, but my son Xander took an interest, programmed it, and set it loose:
Xander named my new robot maid; Steve. So, from Catgirls to Robo Steve. Sigh.
Well, that’s what I want to say. I was skeptical, but Steve actually does a great job. He’s no Rosie the robot. He’s a mostly autonomous dust-buster, floor polisher, and carpet vacuum. He cries for help if he gets stuck, but otherwise he does the job, quietly everyday. My cat hair problem is gone, the floors are never dusty, and even when I sit on the floor there’s no under counter cooking debris. Really, they look great. So great I returned to my office to write a blog. But worry not. I’m getting back to my book, after I hit post.
If you’re interested, there are now a lot of robot floor cleaners on the market. For us DEE BOT seems be working well, for not a big investment after holiday discounts. I don’t get a commission, but I do think the technology is pretty cool.
I’d rather have Catgirl maids, but Jo’s right, when that time actually comes, I probably won’t write as much. So, until my next ridiculous fixation, I’m back to work, and I’m really happy with how my new story is coming along.
Thanks for checking out my blog.
Bill Riley
Check out what’s happening at www.billrileyauthor.com