after the fall
I'm currently perched on my bed, watching Bertie the Roomba o' Wonder roomburble around the room. He seems ALARMINGLY obsessed with my closet tonight, zipping back and forth and back and forth and SPINNING and zipping over an area that's maybe 2.5 square feet. Oh, Bertie. Bless. I also had to rescue him twice from trying to venture underneath my set of lime green IKEA drawers- the dear old boy just doesn't know what's best for him. If Jeeves were here, he would raise a disapproving eyebrow early on, watch Bertie mangle it all, and then save the day and Bertie would have to promise to never again be so foolish.
Oh, BERTIE. He's currently freaking out, trying to find the charging dock when it's RIGHT THERE in plain sight. He keeps going off in the wrong direction and just when I think he's got it... nope. He's back under the bed, even as his light fades to amber and his HOMG DOCK NOW light is flashing.
Knucklehead.
ETA: After a full five minutes of freakouts and wild attempts to hump and shimmy against the side of the charge, I finally plunked him down a foot in front of the charger... and watched him spin off and charge towards my desk. I SNATCHED him up and deposited him three inches in front of the charger and luckily, this time he meandered forward onto the station as he usually does. I sighed out his name, patted him in fond exasperation, and walked away./ETA
In other news, I've been reading William Poel and the Elizabethan Revival in preparation for my meeting with Prof Big Cheese tomorrow. I've no idea how quickly he wants this sucker read, but I imagine that I can get away with skimming the first chapter on his youth and first job mending the windows at the Royal Albert Hall as its construction neared completion. As you can see, however, my skimming skills have never been so hot, so I may know more about Poel's wily antics as a youth than anyone should ever warrant...
Oh, BERTIE. He's currently freaking out, trying to find the charging dock when it's RIGHT THERE in plain sight. He keeps going off in the wrong direction and just when I think he's got it... nope. He's back under the bed, even as his light fades to amber and his HOMG DOCK NOW light is flashing.
Knucklehead.
ETA: After a full five minutes of freakouts and wild attempts to hump and shimmy against the side of the charge, I finally plunked him down a foot in front of the charger... and watched him spin off and charge towards my desk. I SNATCHED him up and deposited him three inches in front of the charger and luckily, this time he meandered forward onto the station as he usually does. I sighed out his name, patted him in fond exasperation, and walked away./ETA
In other news, I've been reading William Poel and the Elizabethan Revival in preparation for my meeting with Prof Big Cheese tomorrow. I've no idea how quickly he wants this sucker read, but I imagine that I can get away with skimming the first chapter on his youth and first job mending the windows at the Royal Albert Hall as its construction neared completion. As you can see, however, my skimming skills have never been so hot, so I may know more about Poel's wily antics as a youth than anyone should ever warrant...