The object of my desire:

Must.
Have.
It.

What would Scooba do?

I just got Scooba, the robot that mops your floors. I was inspired by a work friend who got Roomba for Christmas--at first I was skeptical, until he brought it in to vacuum his office. O. My. God! The lazy technophile inside me DEMANDED a Roomba. Until I heard about Scooba.

My condo is all hard flooring. You remember last fall when I spent two months installing laminate flooring and vinyl tile and all my other DIY adventures? Well I love my floors, especially when they are clean and shiny and uncluttered. However, I am not a very good housekeeper. This is not something I'm going to try to change about myself, it's just something I've accepted. Sure, as I have more responsibilites, I generally find myself keeping a higher standard of cleanliness around me, but cleaning just doesn't come naturally to me.

So I have a theory about Scooba. I think Scooba will make me keep my house clean.

First, Scooba is soooo cute. It's a little round disk about the size of a medium pizza...if the pizza were four inches and had wheels. It's easy to anthropomorphize Scooba, since it moves on its own. Or, not anthropomorphize, because it's not like you think Scooba's human, but it's easy to think it's animate. Like maybe like a mopping dog.

Anyway, to continue with my theory...in order to use Scooba, you've got to pick up everything off the floor. Well, when you pick something up, you have two choices about where to put it down: put it somewhere else, or put it away. So my theory is that when I let Scooba out, I will first put away anything that has crept out of place. And part two of my theory is that I will like my clean floors so much that I will do this often.

Scooba did the whole house this morning, and it looks awesome. Now I have to go fold laundry and put the dishes away.

Thought for the day:

Smart but misunderstanded.

Thought for the day:

There's no need to get all itallicky about it.

Thought for the day:

Type A cares about Every. Little. Thing.

Type B will have another margarita.

For those of us who are going to die alone, surrounded by cats.

Feline Haikus

The food in my bowl
Is old, and more to the point
Contains no tuna.
----
So you want to play.
Will I claw at dancing string?
Your ankle is closer.
----
There's no dignity
In being sick - which is why
I don't tell you where.
----
Seeking solitude
I am locked in the closet.
For once I need you.
----
Tiny can, dumped in
Plastic bowl. Presentation,
One star; service: none.
----
Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow's taken.
----
Your mouth is moving;
Up and down, emitting noise.
I've lost interest.
----
The dog wags his tail,
Seeking approval. See mine?
Different message.
----
My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?
----
Most problems can be
Ignored. The more difficult
Ones can be slept through.
----
My affection is
conditional. Don't stand up,
It's your lap I love.
----
I don't mind being
Teased, any more than you mind
A skin graft or two.
----
So you call this thing
Your "cat carrier"? I call
These my "blades of death."
----
Toy mice, dancing yarn
Meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot.