Ten things I wish I could get a robot to do for me

Ten things I wish a robot would do for me

Everybody has something they hate doing round the house, to the point where they’ll put it off for weeks. Or forever. For some people, it’s ironing. You’ll know these folks by their obsessive attachment to their tumble dryers and fabric softener. For others, it’s gardening. You probably won’t notice them, because the weeds will have grown up above their front windows and they’ll have become an urban myth in your neighbourhood. Some people hate cooking. They can be found in the chiller aisle of the supermarket, looking at microwavable hamburgers. For me, faeces and animal related clean ups are a real drag, although there are also plenty of other things I can’t be bothered to do either. So what if the so called boffins finally got round to inventing some kind of useful robot and it could do all the things we don’t like doing for ourselves? What would that be like? What would your robot do for you? Here are the top ten things my robot (let’s call her Kim) would do for me, although if you give me another five minutes, I’m sure I could think of hundreds more.

1. Wiping small bottoms. Having four and a half year old twins, I feel like I’ve been wiping other people’s bottoms for a hundred years. There was a particularly memorable six month period when the two of them could poo up to five times a day. That was ten poo’s a day to deal with, without even having to think about my own. They’ve been out of nappies for a long time now, but unless I want to deal with HUGE skid marks in the pants, then it’s just better that I carry on wiping myself. Champagne corks will pop on the day when they finally assume responsibility for this themselves (or Kim arrives to do it for me). And of course, I’ll get my revenge one day. When I’m ninety and incapable of doing anything for myself, I shall make sure I get the squits and then lie back and enjoy the fall out!

2. Bathroom hair. Where does it all come from? Shouldn’t we all be bald, given how much hair seems to be shed in our bathroom? Kim, I desperately need you to come and deal with this because every time I clean the bathroom, the hair has reappeared by the next day.

3. Folding up fitted sheets. Let’s face it, no real human being can fold a fitted sheet. We all try and it just ends up being rolled into a ball and being hid at the back of the laundry cupboard. Please save me from fitted sheets Kim.

4. Disposing of slugs. Slugs are the most pointless AND the most disgusting creature known to mankind. Is there anything worse than a slippery, slimy slug? Just imagine if you stood on one with bare feet? Better to stand on a land mine, surely? But slugs love our house. Perhaps I should take it as a compliment but it’s still a tad upsetting. The slugs that visit our house seem to enjoy cat food and gravitate towards the bowls on the floor like they have some kind of homing beacon attached. I always find these slugs when the husband is AWOL. Trying to make them slide onto a piece of paper and rushing them out into the garden IS NOT FUN!! Kim wouldn’t mind doing this, as long as the slime didn’t short circuit her electrics.

5. Disposing of dead mice, birds, shrews. A similar theme to the above but a major problem so I think it’s worth having its own number. Our cats love us. They think we’re swell. The downside to this is they like to bring us presents. Sometimes alive, sometimes dead. Sometimes with heads, sometimes without heads. Husband refuses to deal with live birds so that’s my job. We share the rest. If only Kim was here and then she could do it all.

6. Separate my jigsaw pieces. Now I’m drifting around in my mid thirties and have the poo people to look after, I don’t tend to spend every evening at clubs or fancy social gatherings where I could pretend to like networking. So instead I stay home and allow my brain to turn to mush while I watch TV. Occasionally I will wrench myself away from the TV and do a jigsaw. It might not be cool to say but jigsaws are well fun. Of course, having a mild touch of OCD, I have to make sure I do all the straight pieces first. But it’s a real pain, looking through the box (and getting a bloody sore neck at the same time) looking for those straight pieces. If Kim was here, she could sit beside me and pull out the straight pieces in a flash. I might get her to do the sky too…

7. Clean up the cat’s ‘incidents’. Sometimes I come down stairs in the morning to find a pile of ‘something’ on the floor. The ‘something’ is so mushy and gross, that I can’t tell if it’s vomit or poo. When you throw a piece of kitchen roll over the ‘incident’ and then try and wipe/pick it up, it will inevitably seep through the kitchen roll. This is definitely a job for Kim.

8. Read the bedtime story. Yes I know it’s important to read to your kids, and yes I love books, but no I do not love Thomas the Tank Engine or the Mister Men or most of the other kid’s books which are clearly lacking in any kind of decent plot. When they’re of an age, where I can read them Roald Dahl or Harry Potter then life will be rosy again but please Kim, come and read this drivel about a runaway train.

9. Dealing with little people tantrums. Why is it that the smaller the person, the bigger the tantrum? And how do they time them so well? Middle of the supermarket, middle of a funeral, anytime you are about to enjoy a particularly tasty meal. They know. The little people are as cunning as it gets. So, if the boffins could just send me Kim, then she could deal with the tantrums. Particularly those ones at bedtime when you’re simultaneously trying to put pyjamas on, brush teeth, and cook something suitably magnificent for Husband returning from work.

10. Updating social media. You may have noticed from previous posts that I’m a bit of a Luddite. I was a girl born to live in the past. Apart from the lack of decent toilets and nice, clean hospitals and TV, it would be great. The particular area of life I would like to reverse by about fifty years, is the publishing industry. Self publishing, kindles, celebrity authors, they all kind of make me want to vomit. Writers or wannabe writers have a pretty hard life these days. You are supposed to write and market and promote and be sociable and all sorts. When everybody knows that writers, are by their nature, anti social. So when I read, that if I want to be a writer that I have to get myself ‘out there’ on social media, it makes me want to flop onto my fainting couch. I don’t want to make people like me on Twitter or Pinterest or Facebook. I don’t want to have to seduce other bloggers into reading my blog. I just want to sit at home and read/watch TV/build jigsaws. Please don’t force me to make people like me. Kim would do a great job of this. She doesn’t care when people don’t retweet her humorous anecdotes.


About tenthingsiwish

White Anglo-Saxon Athiest Jock living in England. Writing, raiding the fridge and running from the hoover.
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