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“Don’t you get tired of me nagging you?” I ask her.

“Yes, actually I do.”

“Well, there’s one sure fire way to end all nagging forever! It’s easy…simply take care of your business without me nagging you about it, and you’ve just permenately cashed in your ticket for the guilt trip express for all eternitiy! End all nagging in one easy step. Doesn’t that sound great? You can end all nagging without resorting to killing me in my sleep. Much easier. And your shit gets done at the same time.”

“I don’t have to kill you in your sleep,” she responds. “The Roomba’s gonna do it for me.” (She had gone off on a tangent yesterday trying to convince me the Roomba is demonic. Of course, I know Roomby is my close personal friend. Any entity who does the vaccumming without bitching cannot, by definition, be demonic.)

“Don’t count on it! Doing your shit is much more reliable. And the Roomba is my friend. You know that.”

Roomba is a good little robot. He wouldn’t hurt anybody. He’s just scared of her. He’s heard tales about the carpet in her room.