Meet Robby

Our homes are full of machines, robots, who do things for us.  Through a little bit of programming, they can detect if our clothes aren't quite clean enough or if the dishes need another rinse.  Something as simple as a thermostat can respond to certain parameters and switch from heat to cool and back again.  All just a set of guides.  Now, meet Robby the Roomba.

He vacuums.  As the hubby says, "this is how robots will take over the world, we will just have to stand around and watch them as they work".  Yep.  And then the other robots will sneak around while we are distracted and before we know it, we have been defeated.  No battle, just a little bit of distraction.  I admit, it is frightening to think about.  This little "creature" finds all my hidden little dirty secrets and sucks them up into his belly and then plays a "Ta-Da" when he is done.  Amazing.  My floors have never been cleaner and I spend half the time he is vacuuming watching him zig-zag across the house in a seemingly random pattern.  I guess the take over has begun all ready.

In all honesty, I don't think my floors have ever been this clean due to extreme laziness on our part.  Now I'm not so scared to think about what Baby Girl might be picking up and eating off the floor.

Tunes

Why is it that the most annoying children's songs in the world are the ones that your kid loves the most?  It can't just be "Camptown Races", it has to be "Camptown Races" sung out of key by a group of children.

I had a headache and I'm not sure if it would have been better to continue to listen to off key children or if the screaming kid in the backseat would have been a less brain stabbing option.

First of all, a special thanks to my husband for letting me totally steal the name of this blog.  Not that he had a choice.  I believe the rules of marital property say:  what's his is mine.  So by that rule, I also get anything that he has that I deem cool. 

The cast of characters.  I'll start with our little family first.

Me: 30 something with too many jobs and a dirty house.
Husband: Age Redacted  Also with too many jobs and a naggy wife.
Baby Girl: 1 years old.  On the verge of walking, talking and taking over the world.  Seriously.  I'm waiting for the day she busts out with a full sentence of, "Momma?  I need some milk, fishies, oh and would you mind getting me some yellow cake Uranium?  I've got an idea."


The rest of the cast will probably pop up as we go along.