You know you're doing a poor job of keeping up with housework when someone crawls around on your floor and repeatedly says, "dirty, dirty, dirty." Especially when this critique comes from a person who has a urine-soaked bulge strapped to his person constantly. This same person, while walking outside, would gladly put a dried-up dog turd in his mouth if you weren't cowering over him with a look that said you were ready to pounce. Dirty, he says. And the thing is, he's right.
My floors are dirty. It's not my fault, though. The Roomba isn't working. I have tried, Lord knows I have tried, to fix it. I've spent extensive time in the "troubleshooting" section of the irobot website, and I've spoken to a very polite operator on the phone. All to no avail. I think I'll finally bite the bullet this weekend and ship it off for service.
Godspeed, Roomba. When you return, I'll treat you better than ever before. I'll clean all your sensors on a regular timetable. I'll use q-tips and even rubbing alcohol! Just come back and clean my floors again. Please. I have to show this two year old that I can be cleaner than him.