07/09/2025
Picture this like a short film directed by a caffeinated squirrel 🐿️
The Day My Roomba Tried to Escape:
It all started on Tuesday, which—statistically speaking—is the most untrustworthy day of the week. I was working from home, in my pajamas 💻 (which were really just a shirt with a mysterious ketchup stain and socks that didn’t match, but matched my mood).
Anyway, I had just gotten a Roomba. You know, one of those robotic vacuum cleaners that’s supposed to “make life easier.” (Lies. 🙄)
I named it “Sir Cleans-a-Lot.” 😃
He was supposed to vacuum while I worked, but Sir Cleans-a-Lot had…. ambitions. The first red flag? When he kept trying to roll out the doggy door. That was Day One. Cute, right? I laughed. “Haha, look! He thinks he’s people.” 😆
By Day Three, he was aggressively mapping the house and bumping into the furniture with intent. I swear I heard him mutter “obstacle eliminated” after knocking over a plant. 🪴
But THE INCIDENT happened on Day Five 👋
I was on a Zoom call, pretending to care about quarterly reports, when I heard a CRASH from the bathroom😳 I muted myself and sprinted in 🏃♀️thinking my cat 🐈 had discovered indoor skydiving again. Nope. There was Sir Cleans-a-Lot, STUCK TO THE SHOWER CURTAIN!
Apparently, he’d sucked up the edge of the curtain, panicked, and dragged the entire thing—including the rod—down with him. He looked like a gladiator in a toga made of mildew-resistant fabric.🤣😭
But it didn’t stop there.
I picked him up, trying to untangle the situation, and he went rogue. Somehow, his motor kicked in midair. He spun in my hands like a demon blender. I dropped him. He hit the floor, did a 180, and BOLTED out of the room.💨
I chased him down the hall like I was trying to stop a bomb on wheels. Meanwhile, my dog—bless her chaotic soul—joined the chase, barking and biting the air like she was trying to herd a mechanical sheep.🐑
Sir Cleans-a-Lot took a HARD turn into the kitchen, bumped into the trash can, and knocked it over. Then—AND I SWEAR ON MY WIFI PASSWORD—he sucked up a slice of pizza. WHOLE. 🍕 I saw it disappear like a magic trick. Gone. Just slurp—into the belly of the beast.
My cat, who had been watching silently like a judgmental gargoyle, took that as his cue to jump on the counter, knock over a bowl of cereal, and scream as if he had been wronged.🤦♀️
The Zoom meeting was still on. Camera was muted, yes, but the mic? Nope. Everyone heard:
“DROP THE PIZZA, YOU TINY DEMON!”
Crash 💥
“NO, BAD DOG—THAT’S NOT YOURS!”
Meow/Scream
“WHY IS THERE MILK ON THE CEILING?!”
I finally cornered Sir Cleans-a-Lot behind the couch. He was overheating and sputtering. I picked him up, opened the dust tray—and there it was.
The slice of pizza. Folded like origami, covered in hair, with a single olive on top like a tragic garnish.
I cried. Not because I was upset. But because I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t breathe. My Roomba had declared war on cleanliness, committed pizza theft, and turned my home into an active crime scene.
That day, I learned two things:
1. Never trust a robot with wheels and dreams.
2. Pizza deserves better.
