What's in a Dame

Rascally Roomba no Rosie

Newer Roombas have an app and Alexa capabilities … and attitudes.
Newer Roombas have an app and Alexa capabilities … and attitudes.

It seems I got swept away again.

Some 13 years after writing a column about the iRobot Roomba robotic vacuum -- and then returning the darn thing when it didn't perform to expectations, choking on everything from rug fringe to the Christmas tree lights cord -- I got sucked in to commercial hype and bought another one.

Why? Because this passage I wrote in 2005 still applies:

Well, blame too many Jetsons cartoons during my formative years for this buy. By now we were all supposed to have our own personal Rosies who clean, cook and listen to our problems! The Roomba, made by iRobot (irobot.com), seemed a small, but significant step in the right direction. And I just had to support this advancement.

Yeah, that. Science. And maybe sloth.

Besides, the disc-shaped sweeper has a "patented 3-Stage Cleaning System" and "Dual Multi-Surface brushes" and "specially designed Edge-Sweeping brush" and "Dirt Detect Sensors." This Roomba is better about not banging into walls and comes with a battery-operated Dual Mode Virtual Wall Barrier to keep her away from things -- like the exasperated felines' food bowls (let's just say neither has volunteered to willingly wear a shark costume and ride Roomba like that cat in the YouTube video).

It is much improved.

Improved, or it merely appears much more important. The Wi-Fi-connected model I bought works with another robot -- Alexa, the Amazon Echo virtual assistant. Let me tell you, there is nothing cooler than telling your one robot to make the other robot clean.

Until they conspire against you. Alexa is prone to amnesia, insisting the iRobot skill hasn't been enabled and that no Roomba is connected.

A recent exchange when I couldn't find the vacuum cleaner after its battery had depleted: "Alexa, where's Roomba?"

Instead of telling me about the location of Roomba the vacuum, she told me about Rumba, the restaurant: "Rumba Revolution is located at 300 President Clinton Avenue in Little Rock." This when the restaurant isn't even open anymore. Thanks for nothing, Alexa.

At least in theory, Roomba also can be controlled by an app. But newer, more nimble and needy Roomba -- she's really the one in control.

Yes "she." Roomba has a voice now. A shrill one. And she's not afraid to use it.

Roomba -- like many women -- thinks she's slimmer than she is and insists on trying to squish herself into things that just can't accommodate her girth. She's forever wedging herself under the guestroom foot board and getting stuck beneath the bathroom cupboard. After a chime sounds, her narrated nasal voice cries, "Error one. Move Roomba to a new location, then press 'Clean' to restart." But, wait, I got her so I wouldn't have to move.

And sometimes she whines, "Error seven. Spin Roomba's side wheels to clean." It's wheely annoying.

And then there are the times she flatly refuses to work in dirty conditions, even though her occupation is cleaning: "Error two. Open Roomba's brush cage and clean brushes." As I clear away debris from her brushes I think, I bought her so she would clean, not so that I'd have to clean her.

And occasionally she outright fibs. In the most fantastical way possible.

Thinking that I could leave her by herself to clean -- after all, one can schedule cleanings with the app -- I got a warning message that flashed on my phone screen.

"Royal requires your attention" it demanded in bold letters. "Royal is stuck near a cliff." Really, a cliff? In a one-story house?

Um, yes, my Roomba's name -- it asks for one during sign up -- is Royal. Well, I already have a Kate and a Pippa. It seemed appropriate.

And it turns out Roomba really is Royal after all. A Royal pain.

Make a clean sweep and email:

jchristman@arkansasonline.com

What's in a Dame is a weekly report from the woman 'hood.

Style on 05/22/2018

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