My husband bought me a lover. Well, that wasn’t his intention. What started as a way to alleviate dog hair has evolved into a full-blown infatuation. The object of my affection arrived in a large glossy box practically oozing with sex appeal and promises of a better tomorrow. The lustrous smell of new plastic sent chills up and down my spine.
 
I watched as she was ceremoniously lifted from her bubble wrap and carefully assembled on the kitchen counter. She is a real stunner, the true definition of natural beauty. I was eager to use her but my husband warned me to read the manual first. Not an instructions kind of gal, I went straight for the plug-in. When she was fully charged, I put my finger on the large round “clean” button and firmly pressed down. Just like that, I turned her on.
 
Zoom! She took off with the fervor and determination of a crowned jeweled thoroughbred. My heart raced as I watched her go to work. I giddily followed my new love around the living room while she delicately danced between dusty nooks and crannies. Her rhythm was impeccably timed, gliding left to right and then spinning in thunderous circles.
 
This was definitely a cause for celebration. I poured myself a generous glass of sparkling wine. I admired her for over an hour as she performed her duties. I felt a warm rush of gratitude just thinking about the magnitude of the task this magnificent creature was taking on for me. I have never felt so special. So loved.
 
But like all good things in life, it wasn’t perfect. She got hitched up a few times, once on the carpet fringe and once in the doorway to the laundry room. She beeped and said, “Uh-oh.” I frantically ran to her rescue. I couldn’t bear to see my soulmate stuck in a jam. I gently picked her up and guided her back on track.
 
I encouraged her and told her she was beautiful and doing an amazing job. She rolled back to her docking station, played a little song, and her lights went out. After a hard day’s work, she seemed satisfied. This must mean the feelings are mutual. Right? I quietly tapped her and whispered “Thank you for coming into my life. You saved me.”
 
The void of loneliness has been filled. I feel so electric that I can’t eat or sleep. I am sick with emotions, high on endorphins.
 
I think about her while I’m in bed. Did I forget to empty her lint cartridge? Is she charging? Is she cold? Is she afraid of the dark? I jump up and race to her side to make sure that she’s okay. What if she needs me? I double-check the lint trap and outlet. Even this doesn’t seem to be enough. There must be more I can do for her after she selflessly gives so much.
 
iRobot Roomba, I’ve fallen for you. Never leave me, I simply can’t live without you.
Jennifer Scharf
Author

Jennifer Scharf is a freelance writer with essays featured in McSweeney’s, Scary Mommy, Mamalode, The Mid, BLUNTmoms and more. You can follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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