Ahhhh, Rosie. She's beautiful, if unfashionably round. And oh, how I love her. If she were a man, I just might leave my family for her. Well, maybe not... but my passion for her is rather exuberant, you understand.

I won't bore you to tears with a long review of her fabness, but I will tell you that I happily plan on mopping at least one room a day just so I can play with her. While she is working, I can't help but have a cup of tea and kind of feel like I'm at the spa, instead of home with a bratty 4 year old and a puke and poop spewing ball of giggles and pinkeye. And I needed that, friends. Oh, yes. Right now, she's mopping under my bed. UNDER my bed. I've never mopped under my bed, that I can recall. I might vacuum it out once a year or so, but mop? Never ever.

L has promised to some day by the Roomba which you can summon with your remote to pick up crumbs just dropped onto the floor. He shall be named Astro, and my family will be complete. Until they make a robot that dusts blinds, though I can't imagine how that would be achieved...