I have a new friend. He is unusual, meticulous, and doesn’t talk much, but I don’t know what I would do without him. He has literally changed my life. His wardrobe is decidedly unchanging, always in black, but his grooming is impeccable. His name is Not-Me.
Not-Me vacuums every day if I need him to.
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Vacuuming used to be an integral part of my day and seriously, it was my cardio.
With two black dogs indoors, my penchant for bare feet, and white rugs on wood floors, one can see the necessity.
Lately though, I have lost the love of vacuuming. I am over it, don’t really want to do it anymore.
He covers the entire house in a couple of hours if I pick up the clutter the night before.
He still cleans when I don’t feel well, or if I am still in bed typing away delivering prose to the world. Admittedly, he is round and substantial, but unlike me, he is able to fit under sofas and chairs.
My dogs are not particularly fond of him.
When Not-Me rolls by while either dog is close, they dodge him as if he is roving fire and run to the other side of the house. Not-Me’s slightly high pitched soft whine might and aggressive rolling action be a little too much.