Just like the things you don’t want in your kitchen, a robot is there when you aren’t. Think of it as an enchanted broom that can’t be stopped!

Dear Woot,

I’m a small brown field mouse that used to live happily in the kitchen of a modest Florida home. I say “used to” because, of late, there is very little happiness in my life. To put it bluntly, I find myself unable to care for myself and my children, all because of the iRobot Roomba 535 Robotic Vacuum.

Woot, I am aware of my life as a scavenger. My parents were scavengers, as were their parents before them. I wanted nothing more than to pass on this scavenging tradition to my twenty to thirty-five boys and girls. Even when my husband left me to pursue his dream of being in show business, I never lost sight of the scavenging. But now, the Roomba 535 has made my dream impossible to achieve.

Gone are the dust and pet hair that once formed the lining of our nest. Gone are the crumbs and debris that once put food on our table. The 535’s Bristle Brush and Beater Brush work together to give floors and carpets a deep sort of clean, all the way down to the pollen and dander. The Roomba 535 even goes into the corners and under furniture. My eldest loved our family trips under the furniture. My youngest has never even been. He used to dream of the day he’d be old enough to accompany me to the sofa by the fireplace. Now the trip would be too dangerous. How do I explain that to a young one?

Woot, it’s one thing to support traps we can avoid and poison to which we grow immune. But to support the inhumanity of taking away that on which we actually live? To send in a faceless, soulless machine that answers only to the Virtual Wall Lighthouse Technology which contains it in a room until that room is fully clean? For shame, Woot. For shame.

I am a proud mother. I have never asked anyone for anything. Not even my husband, whose name I am legally unable to write here, and his long-term girlfriend. But I am asking now. Not just for myself. Not even for my family, as much as I would like to. No, I ask for the spiders that hunt in the bathroom. I ask for the little snakes that no one never sees. I ask for the opossum that sleeps in the chimney and only comes out when it hears snoring. I ask for the whole delicate ecosystem that has evolved around the dirty floors of your customers. Please, Woot, please. Never sell an iRobot Roomba Model 535 again.

Yours hopefully,

Mrs. Mouse

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