20 November 2009

the other woman

When we come home in the evening he goes to her immediately for a little quality time. A little caressing. Seeing what kind of day she had. It's very sweet.

No, he's not petting one of the dogs. It's the robot. And I don't mind a bit. Truth be told, I'm kind of falling in love with her too. Every morning I look to see if she made it back home the night before. (Good practice for later? I hope not.) And I think kind thoughts about her every time I notice the lack of dog hair tumbleweeds around the house.

This is our robot. She still needs a name.


3 comments:

clumber said...

Clum-bot?

The anti-clumber?

Does it clean slobber off the wall too?

ClumberKim said...

Alas, she does not work on slingers that hit the walls.

Matt said...

Just call it your biatch. It's OK because it's inanimate.