In domestic news, an issue has arisen with the robot vacuum cleaner. Our noisy old one annoyed me so much, bashing repeatedly into the skirting and swallowing rug tassels in confusion, that I stamped violently on its off button every time I caught it trying to do its job.
The new one is less relentlessly stupid, but just as loud, and since my husband programmed it, it appears to always be on. It lurches out at 10am and is still roaring around when I come downstairs, hours later. After a brief hiatus, it re-emerges in the afternoon. It’s so noisily industrious, I feel simultaneously enervated and shamed by its productivity. Let me stare at the internet in peace, robot!
