Roomba: It's Fun To Say But Will It Kill Me In My Sleep?

My handsomer half bought a Roomba, and while he is obsessed -- applauding its every move like a proud parent (wow! look how it sucked that cheerio up from under the couch!) -- I feel like its mother in law. Every morning when we wake up I do an inspection lap, noticing all the stuck on crumbs left behind. Maybe I'm jealous, a little wary that I may somehow be replaced by a stupid robot. Maybe I'm a little concerned about what a freaking cyborg is doing unsupervised in our living room while our soft, vulnerable bodies sleep just a room away. Or maybe I'm just unconvinced a hockey puck that can barely run for 25 minutes without lazily returning home to charge will be any match for a toddler and the drifts of smashed up snacks left in his wake every night. Due to caked on milkyogurtcerealbarfrenchfryturkeyspit, we are probably going to have to burn our current rug. It's disgusting. Perhaps we should replace it with one of these:

Fork Carpet

Army Carpet

Forest Carpet

Band aid Carpet

Pasta Carpet

I feel like this is such a winning idea. I mean, the Roomba will never be able to navigate all these little pieces -- it cries at the thought of schlepping over fringe. Plus, I think these are so practical. I can easily make the forest rug from all the leaves tracked in by our velcro kitty. If we get hungry, I can use the fork rug to eat the pasta rug. The band aid rug will be easy to sponge clean. And the army rug will shoot the Roomba if it tries to kill us.

Problem solved.

Read about creative collective We Make Carpets here.