Mother and Roomba


I got one of those miraculous little robot vacuum sweepers that scurries around getting dust bunnies, dog hair, and cleaning spots I routinely neglect.  I love it.  All you have to is empty the little dust bin and unwind the dog hair off the rotary brush after each use.  It can even be set to run during the night.  The little genius even docks itself to recharge.  It has a little laser light device to fence it into a room.  I run it in the front rooms during the night and do the hall and bedrooms during the day.  One day I fooled around and left it barred in my bedroom under the bed so it couldn’t redock.  It kicked off at midnight and scared the crap out of me.  That was exciting!

Mother is hostile to technology.  She does her floors with a straw broom and stringmop the God way intended. She is even suspicious of a sponge mop.  The robot vacuum is totally baffling to her.  She can’t fathom how it knows how clean to the entire area. I couldn’t make her understand repetitive random movements.  It was no help at all when Bud told her it made a computerized map, then dropped it in my lap to explain his lie.  I will have to knock his little bitty brains out.



Terrible Tale of Cell-Phone Torture


cell phoneMother is a tightwad, or careful with her money as she calls it, refusing to get a cell-phone.  For my own peace of mind, I put her on my plan.  I did get peace of mind in knowing she wasn’t out without a phone, but the cell-phone opened a whole new can of worms.  First of all, I tried to convince her it was free, so she’d use it, but she didn’t buy that.  When I finally admitted it cost ten dollars a month, no matter how much she used it, that was okay.  She insisted she’d accept it only if I let her pay me.  I agreed and that’s the last I heard of it.  She doesn’t mind owing me forever but has no intention of being a freeloader.  I am happy with that compromise.

She also has the habit of locking her keys in the house or car.  I added roadside assistance, but she was reluctant to call the service till she realized there was a guy in her neighborhood who got the calls.  Now she feels like she’s helping him and gives him all her business.  I haven’t had the heart to tell her she is only covered for two calls a year.   

She loses her phone a couple of times a week.  Most of the time, it’s in a jacket pocket, or under a chair cushion or car seat, but sometimes she’s left it somewhere else.  She panics and calls me the second she misses it, since I was foolish enough to provide it.  By the time I get the call, she’s ranting at herself for losing it again and has to wear her frustration out before we can get down to the business of finding it.  I don’t advise providing the instrument of your torture.  Most of the time it’s at my house or in my car.  I always try to check her out before we part ways, but sometimes I forget.  I added phone insurance just in case, so she’s going to pay for that sometime, too.  That’s the only way she’d agree.

Unfortunately, Mother sometimes get random text messages on her phone.  She doesn’t text and is hostile to texting, so this is a problem.  She’s always convinced one of her children are in danger and are trying to reach her by text this time, though any of us would rather die than deal with texting her.  It puts her in a panic till I remind her none of her kids would ever text her.  If one of them ever does, she’s going on their plan then and there.

I am still glad Mother has a cell phone, but just in case you wondered, she still has her land line for back up.  Cell-phones can’t be trusted.  I dread the day when Mother finds out her next phone will have to be a smart phone.  She HATES the internet!