Saturday, July 25, 2020

The robot is confused. Usually, if it hits something, it either turns a few degrees and tries again, pushes it out of the way, or runs over it. It doesn’t know what to do with this chair. Due to the friction of the chair’s legs against the floor, the robot can push it forward a few centimeters, but then it grinds to a stop. Continuing to push it doesn’t help. The robot has to back up and bang into it again. I watch it slowly bump the chair across the floor, recalculating after each push. Finally, since I have a vestigial tinge of mercy for some inanimate objects and I don’t have infinite time, I walk over, lift the chair, and put it where it was, behind where the robot is now. I’ve been thinking of going out to the usual Sabbath cafe while the robot does its work. I decide not to. It’s too hot outside. I won’t spend the day completely isolated. The cleaner will be here in a few hours. She comes to my place about once a month. Cleaning is not my strongest skill, so I leave it to an expert when I can. At the moment, I can afford it. Today, I’m not absolutely sure she’ll make it, since the government keeps playing Mother-May-I with lockdowns. We’ve decided to go for it, knowing that a last minute ruling might prevent her from getting here. She arrives as planned, after the robot is done. As usual, she’s about twenty minutes earlier than the set time. I know that she does this. I’m OK with that. She deals with the kitchen and bathroom areas. After a month, they need professional help. I handle the bedroom and living room areas myself. I stay out of her way while she works, dealing with things at my desk. She asks very few questions, mostly about my apartment’s inscrutable array of light switches. I look around my room looking for ways to improve the jumble of boxes. Back in the States, I had put risers under the legs of my bed, lifting it high enough that I could slide the boxes under it. Time to try to figure out how to get them here. The robot handles the vacuuming. I wish it could sort through the jumble and put it all away. Someday, I suppose, I’ll have to do that myself.