Baby Roomba

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not ungrateful but having a roomba is like keeping up with a little kid.  My daughter, Becky, gave us her old roomba, but it is such a pain to keep up with.  Our living room curtains go to the floor, and it hangs up there.  The roomba gets stuck under the kitchen table and can’t seem to find its way out of the forest of chair legs.  Then it hangs up on the extension cords and lamp cords and the Dish and TV cords in the living room.  I left it working last Wednesday, but I couldn’t find it when I came home.  I looked under beds, under chests and dressers - it was nowhere to be found.  I finally found it in the spare bedroom where it had wandered in, got behind the door and managed to bump the door shut.  Of course, it ran out of its charge and died in the corner.  I have to dump out its small bin constantly, just like changing diapers on a baby.  Just like a two-year-old, I have to watch it constantly and can’t trust it home alone.  Oh well.  A small price to pay for such a “convenience”.