The Servants

 One of my servants, Rob, needed to be followed around today. He's the kind of worker who needs to be watched every minute in spite of what I was told he could do. He's the kind of employee who persists in doing things his way and not mine. My grandma had a servant like that long ago before the Age Of Stamping Out Discrimination,  and followed the poor woman around making sure "in the nicest way" that what was done was to Gramma's liking. I have a lot of servants in every room, every single room including the laundry/storage room. By now, you know where this is heading.  Yes, they are all electric devices in some way and their boss is supposed to be me according to the instructions in the booklets that came with them but I have yet to "boss".  This morning, Rob, my robot vacuum cleaner, as usual didn't want to leave his dock and go do what the little visual on his top says he must do. We finally got that worked out when I urged him with my slipper toe, out from under his chair home port and sent him on his way. Of course, as do some people I know who clean before the cleaner comes, I had to lift up any little item in the place, that might irk him. These include piles of wires that most have under their computer desks in the spaghette tangle that lives there, little mats, floor vases and lamps and miscellaneos stools and chairs that he can't get under to do the job he was created for. His job is to vacuum, but when it comes to the dirty work like emptying out the dust bin, I have a wicked time trying locate it and then to extracate it. It looks very small to me. A "real" vaccuum cleaner, has quite an enormous dirt holder attached, but Rob's seems embarrassingly small. He also makes a lot of noise and even though I am told they know where to go, he goes where he jolly well wishes and sometimes lingers for an inordinate time in one spot for no apparent reason. He can climb carpets and knock things over with his bumping edges, and so far he has fought off and survived, piles of cords and other fabric things that get in his way, with a degree of determination and decorum. For this, I like him. But the ads say, I can go out and leave him to do the job on his own.  Not so. His love affair with the door stopper ,for example, would have him hanging out near that little object, and never getting the rest of his floors done. I follow him around the whole time now, watching what corners are being ignored and which are over-polished. When his work day is over, and he tells me in blue light, it's time to dock, he doesn't seem to know the way home. More encouraging happens with the slippered toe. Whew. Then my other servants: the air conditioners, the air filters, the sound speakers, the smart thises and thatses, the waterpiks and toothbrushes and manicure sets and cooking applicances and all the rest of the metal and plastic servants that I serve need attention. My servants need  new batteries, washing, dusting and maintaining. Servants are hard work. Time to use the coffee machine and whip up a nice one so that I can sit out on the deck and look at clouds and birds that are not servants and relax.