I highly recommend keeping a journal. Even if you can’t write in it everyday, it makes for some fun reminiscing. The following is from a journal entry dated October 16, 2019.
Old Roomba gave up the ghost and I tried to get along without him. But having a large house and me being not really into housework found me missing my little Buddy. Enter new Roomba, unnamed as yet. Quieter and it seems to pick up a lot more dirt. Got hung up on the treadmill downstairs a couple of times, but so far, so good. I decided that I needed to run some errands in town and locked new Roomba in the master bedroom/bath while I was away.
I came home and opened the master and everything is normal, except new Roomba is stopped by the side of the bed with a long, black petrified-looking thing beside it. OMG. No. IT. CAN’T. BE. It surely looks like an ancient, petrified cat turd. Ugh. It is! HOW? WHY?!
I look under the bed to see if there is more or if I can spot the scene of the crime. No. Now my Howard Hughes germ PHOBIA kicks in, as I imagine the robot whacking the old, shriveled turd this way and that across the rug and everywhere. I can visualize its little brushes flicking bits of cat crap everywhere. Retch!
It took me awhile to figure out what to do. At first I thought maybe I should burn everything and then I thought disinfect everything. I finally vacuumed the rug (with a real vacuum) and mopped the hard surfaces and will disinfect new Roomba (perhaps its name should be Turd Herder). My husband laughed and said he would have thrown the turd away and restarted new Roomba. This brings me to the point that mankind would be better off if we had kept dirt floors…