BLOGG # 117 REGGIE'S BLOGG

A few days ago I happened to mention to a friend of mine that I couldn't find Reginald-my robot vacuumcleaner or rhuomba -which I am sure my readers remember from previous bloggs. I thought he was probably under my bed and that I needed to ask my grandson to come over and rescue him.My friend suggested writing a blogg about Reggie saying that his adventures should be very interesting and exciting and perhaps frightening. I thought"hmmmm" -not a bad idea but why should I do it? Let's go straight to the horsese's mouth and let the robot do it. So I gave Reggie the task.Here it is:
My name is Reginald , I am a robot vacuumcleaner and have been employed by Laurie for the past two years. She is an O.K. mistress who looks after me fairly well and cleans my equipment fairly regularly and I can't complain. My hours are easy. I work from 1.30pm to 2.30pm five days a week and get the weekend off. My domain consists of a large  living  dining room cum art studio, galley kitchen,hall, bathroom, bedroom and second small one that is used to store paintings and canvas etc. This space is usually barred but my mistress can be forgetful and remove the barrier and I have spent a few frightening moments among the pitfalls around  the art work.
Though the place is cluttered, and I am sorry to say she is somewhat messy, I have learned to negotiate around various articles and have memorized the layout. It is uphill work though as she has a tendency to move things around so that I am taken by surprise and bump into things that aren't supposed to be there. She will move chairs from tables and I have found myself stranded climbing an unexpected curved table leg and being stuck and needing to be rescued. This is humiliating to say the least. She also tends to randomly pile books and magazines on the floor with no thought of how it will affect me, or move furniture around with no logical method, confusing me. The other irritating habit she has is to perch drawing boards with "works in progress" against furniture which I bump into and sometimes push over finding myself submerged in Art. Not my favourite thing. I am not a fan of Art.
She also once  removed, thoughtlessly,a strategically placed obstacle in front of the TV and sterio that was put there to prevent my being damaged by the nest of electrical wires. I was briskly working my way round them when to my horror, I found myself caught up  in a Charlotte's web of electrical wiring. I called for help in panic. Thankfully  she wasn't off somewhere having coffee as usual but was present and rescued me. Another time I was less lucky. I was vacuuming under her computer desk where I was confident and familiar with the wiring  when to my horror one day I saw a very tiny white electric wire had been added. I watched in horror as my sensors inched slowly towards it and as I struggled to get away the wire was slowly dragged into my maw and I had visions of being violently burnt to a crisp. She rescued me just in time and tenderly unwound the wire from my insides. She is not a bad mistress and reasonably intelligent I suppose. Fortunately she does not scatter clothes all over the bedroom floor-especially her delicate silk "smalls."All robots have a horror of these silky lacy garments especially the satin strappy things with elastics and hooks. I did once eat up the edge of a blouse sleeve carelessly draped over the chair near the floor. One day I had an exciting adventure. The edge of the bedroom curtain which billows over the floor got caught in my sensors and as I whirled got tangled up in it, the curtain came cascading gloriously to the floor. I shouted "relocate" and was pleased to see her come running. I felt smug as she crossly carried me back to my port mumbling that she would have to get her daughter to come and hang up the damn curtain again. 
Thank heaven my mistress does not own a hairy cat dog or toddler who dumps icky food or worse all over the floor for me to wallow in. She is a lady in spite of everything and does not leave glasses of wine on the floor for me to spill or uneaten food. She does on the other hand often drop stuff  like parsley or bits of onion while cooking in the kitchen. She kicks these morsels under the kitchen cupboards so she won't slip and I have to deal with them.The parsley is OK but I am not fond of onion. I often find peppercorns spilled on the floor and it is fun to roll them around and play catch and once I ate a whole piece of cooking string which gave me indigestion. One of the things I like least about her is that she likes to lunch in front of the TV watching a movie on Netflix. She invariably sits down to eat just as I start vacuuming. Though I am fairly quiet, I do make noise and she doesn't like it so she interrupts me and sends me back to Port. This annoys me as I cannot do my work properly. I think eating and watching TV a disgusting habit. Besides crumbs get all over the floor which I have to clean up.
At the moment I am located under the bed caught up with something or stuck in a corner beside a huge rolled up painting. I have been here over a week now waiting to be rescued. I have shouted myself hoarse and have just come to the gloomy realization that my mistress cannot rescue me here. She can not get under a bed. She is unbendable.So here I sit frightened lonely in the dark waiting for her lanky grandsons to rescue me. I have died literally from fright embarrassment and dead battery.
As you can see, being a ruomba is an exciting and scary profession and you should think twice before choosing it if you like a placid quiet life. Thanks for listening-Reggie.