Roxie

My Christmas list usually consists of things like Buckle jeans and Sperry boat shoes. I officially entered adulthood Christmas 2010 when the top spot on my wish list went to the Swiffer Sweeper Vac. Throughout college, the regular Swiffer was enough to clean the tiny kitchen in my 40-year-old townhouse. It got under the dishwasher, refrigerator and the washer & dryer that sat in the corner like an extension to the countertops (only a man would design this setup- who wants to cook and do laundry in the same room???) With a grown-up house, I needed the bad boy. Like Tim Taylor on Home Improvement, I needed POWER (insert grunts here) to tackle the tumbleweeds of hair roaming the baseboards of my new abode.

Quick, convenient and effective! It was floor care nirvana!

When Clay and I got engaged, I found myself roaming Bed, Bath & Beyond for hours. A salesperson suggested we register for everything from trinkets like wooden spoons to more expensive appliances like the Roomba. I looked at him like he had a martian growing out of the side of his head and thought to myself that nobody was going to buy us a $300 gift and if they do, it won't be something boring like a floor cleaner.

Thankfully, I was wrong. Meet Roxie the Roomba.



Hubby's coworkers threw us a shower last Wednesday. A few of them went in together and adopted Roxie for us. I never thought the addition of a new appliance would be so fun. I’m fascinated by this thing. I like to watch her move across the floor and see what she can pick up. So far, she loves to feed on hair, dead bugs and the occasional blanket. She isn’t a fan of raw broccoli florets, but then again, without ranch dressing, neither am I. While I was cleaning the rest of the house Saturday, Roxie was busy working on the floors. When her job was done, she scurried back to her dock and I swept. The debris pile was only a quarter of the normal size. Job well done, Roxie.

On Roxie's first night at home, Jenna, the scaredy-cat Dobie/Lab mix, was not too gracious about sharing her territory. When Roxie got close to her toys, Jenna's maternal instincts kicked in and she leapt on her toys in a heroic effort to protect them. On several occasions, she jumped at Roxie and knocked her off her path. After a few attempts, Jenna is much more comfortable with her new buddy and lets her frolic through the house uninterrupted.

"The older you get, the better you get... unless you're a banana." Thanks, Rose Nylund, for these words of wisdom. I feel less like I am on the road to walkers and Aspercreme after writing this post. As the big 3-0 approaches, that phrase won’t suffice. Maybe I can find an appliance that mops and dusts to alleviate a little of the pain.