Tuesday, December 21, 2010


Baby W is getting close to crawling, but for now he just scoots around the room on his stomach. This means the floor is much cleaner than it used to be, for two reasons: 1) I vacuum it more often to make it less likely the baby can get his fat hands on the little bits of floor crud that he likes to put in his mouth, 2) but also because the baby himself essentially cleans and polishes the floor as he maneuvers around, because all the dust bunnies stick to his fleece sleeper. He reminds me of a Roomba, one of those robot floor vacuums that move randomly about the room picking up dirt. Every hour or so I shake him out on the porch to get him clean, then set him back down to suck up more dirt.

This floor is already clean.
Why do they need a vacuum?
By the way, I went to Amazon to read about Roombas, and one of the reviews that I read was 2,700 words long and had been updated six separate times over a time span of two years. That's shorter than most term papers I wrote in college, and something tells me that in college this guy shrank the margins and the font size in order to cram the most words possible into five pages. I recently learned a technique, about 15 years too late, where you skip a page number in a term paper -- for example, going from page 6 to page 8 -- so that what appears to be a 10 page paper is really only a 9 page paper. What cruel twist of fate caused me to learn this trick now? There was a brief shining moment during which knowledge of this kind of sneakiness would have come in handy, and it was during History of Russia freshman year. Now the moment has passed, leaving me bitter, much like a Bolshevik after the first failed Russian revolution, maybe, if in fact there was more than one. I don't think I wrote my paper on that.

I got kind of sucked into browsing reviews that this fellow has written, and I saw that he has written a review of a Scooba, a floor-washing robot, that was 1,500 words long. Baby W also doubles as a floor-washing robot or at least a floor-polishing robot. The wooden floors get a nice sheen after he rubs them all over with the front of his drool-soaked sleeper.

This same reviewer has written hundreds of reviews on Amazon, including a five-paragraph review of a tube of toothpaste. Now, I'm not exactly in a position to make fun of somebody else's useless hobby, especially in light of my useless hobby (hey, you're the one reading it) but this guy is devoted. He even reviewed Durex Play Quiver Lubricant, although he only gave it three stars out of five, saying it "smelled like paste." Immediately after that, he wrote a review for a bottle of Roasted Raspberry Chipotle sauce. Do not put these things next to each other by the bedside because in the passion of the moment you could grab the wrong container. Now THAT I would like read a review of.

Anyway, because of the baby, our floor is cleaner these days, but it's still not what anybody would call clean. I prefer to think of it as an indoor sod floor.

At least we have a functioning vacuum cleaner, which was not always the case. Our previous vacuum cleaner burned through a rubber belt every time we used it. To this day, when I detect the smoky funk of burning rubber, my first thought is, "Smells like a clean house to me!" We used to have a vacuum supplies store within walking distance, which was handy since we spent about a quarter of our pre-tax income on vacuum belts. The store went out of business not long after we got a new vacuum, which I don't think is a coincidence. I think it had something to do with the Bolsheviks.


  1. Ummm... that was me writing those reviews!

  2. I thought you farmed out writing those reviews to Linden!