Good morning. 🍂🍂🍂
16 November 2025
Yesterday, I finally seized the handle of the vacuum cleaner and dealt with the confetti that had been littering the floors for days—possibly weeks. I also tended to Mr. Roomba, who’d been out of commission for a similar stretch. They make a good couple: Roomba spreads the mess, and the big vacuum cleans it up. Eventually. When I feel like it.
The confetti is a byproduct of my shredder. Every time I empty the bin, little clips of paper scatter around its base like ceremonial offerings. When Roomba rolls into my office, it picks up those bits and trails them through the house like a ticker-tape parade. They stay put until I bring in the big dog to clean up. That last part depends on my mood. I have to ask myself: do those little paper clips bother me enough to act? Usually the answer is yes—but not right now. Eventually, I’ll rise, grab the vacuum, plug it into the wall, squint at the paper trail, and mutter, “Do you feel lucky?”
Seriously though, Roomba handles small debris decently. Dog hair? Not so much. But that doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is its struggle with the floor transitions in my house. It gets stuck trying to cross over, and if I’m nearby, I’ll give it a gentle nudge with my foot. Often, it turns right around and tries to go back the way it came. It’s kind of crazy—like Charlie and the back door.
“My cleaning style is best described as ‘there appears to have been a struggle.’” — Belene, Blessings and Quotes
“Pet hair isn’t dirt—it’s love confetti.” — David, Quotes Guru
“Cleaning is just putting stuff in less obvious places.” — Anonymous
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