I tried the robot vacuum cleaner for the second time last night. This time, it felt less like experimenting and more like knowing what I was doing. I now know how to set a no-go zone, and how to draw zones so the vacuum cleans only one area instead of the whole house.
My helper seems to have mixed feelings about the vacuum. She watched me from the doorway while I tapped on my phone. I could feel a small distance open up between us, created by the phone in my hand. Only later that night did I realise I could add a family member into the app. I sent the invitation to my husband.
In the morning, it was the first thing I thought about. Not the vacuum itself, but the room. I wondered if I should move the furniture in the living room so the vacuum could clean more easily. I stood there, looking at the floor, imagining its path.
Some of the furniture felt unnecessary. I never use the coffee table. We have four laundry bags, too many for the living hall. One for the kids’ socks. One for old socks. I paused over that one. I should throw them away, or at least keep them somewhere else. One bag for hangers. I have to check what’s in the last one.
The ironing board is out of place. I don’t remember when it started living there. I don’t even sit on the rattan couch. It’s mostly for my cats now, and a bag of clothes belonging to my children, their school uniforms folded loosely inside.
The walking pad stays. Me and my children use it. The bookshelf is dusty and looks ugly, but I already know what I want to do with it. I just haven’t started.
By then, the vacuum had already finished its work and returned to its corner.
The room looked the same, mostly.
I might be closer to having my gallery home than I realise.
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