Clutter corrupts

Bob and I have been trying to get the house clean for Christmas but we’ve had a few problems.› Bob keeps getting hung up on things. For those of you who don’t live in the New Jetson Generation, Bob is my robotic vacuum which uses twice as much electricity, takes three times as long to clean the whole house and is delightful.›

I bought Bob last summer when I had plenty of time to run my old vacuum, too much money in my rainy-day fund and was lured into a state of idiocy by fake news and false advertising. However, Bob is bright, shiny red and makes me feel modern and a bit pampered.›He picks up a tremendous amount of dust and hair, keeps the dogs on their toes. Furthermore, he makes me the envy of family gatherings and Sunday school class. That is probably why I bought Bob. He was on sale, and I figured everyone would think I paid full price. Anyway, Bob is here, and together we make a pretty good team.›

Bob does the actual cleaning.›I do the rescue work.›You see, Bob is a fraction of an inch taller than the space below my coffee table, the front of the dishwasher, and the edge of the cabinet in the back bathroom. Therefore, Bob tends to get himself stuck. He spends about a minute trying to get out of the bind, and then shuts down.

If I’m busy with other things, he can be “down” for quite some time — waiting for me to miss him.›If he is stuck under the bed where he might have picked up a sock and strangled himself, I have to go looking for him. I use his remote control to beep him. Following the beep, I have found him wound up in the shag bathroom rug, snuggled into the legs of my dining room chairs, and once choked on the church bulletin which had hidden under the coffee table.›I’ve propped up the coffee table on old decks of playing cards, blocked the path to the dishwasher, and removed all the dog toys from his path — and yet, Christmas has been a challenge.›

He was sleeping when I put up the tree but was thrilled to go to work shortly after I finished.› He circled the tree picking up tiny bits of broken glass bulbs, shredded packing material, and of course dog hair. Bob loves dog hair. I’m not sure which dog it came from — those decorations have seen a plethora of dogs wag through my house.›

The problem this week came with the whole house run. Bob wasn’t ready for all the extra litter, which had accumulated.›Long skinny strips of wrapping paper, pieces of tape which had to be cut from my finger after being tangled during the wrapping process, staples and lengths of black wire which had at one time held toys to cardboard backings. I was working on a difficult crossword puzzle when I realized Bob was having an asthma attack. He was “rattling” in the living room. Although he hadn’t stopped, I recognized his trauma. It was a fine black wire, wound around the roller, banging away at Bob’s bottom. I flipped him over, unwound the wire and sent him on his way.

Of course, Christmas doesn’t last forever and Bob won’t have all this clutter after the decorations are put away. As I said, I love Bob. He cleans, he sings, and he takes himself to bed when he is tired. Even the best of our children need our help occasionally.