I Thought There Was An Intruder In My Apartment

Since completing my Professional Chocolatier course, I haven't had much reason to blog. It's been too hot and humid to engage in kitchen experiments, and life has been somewhat busy as I attempt to squeeze as much enjoyment out of summer as humanly possible for an introvert. One of my favourite evenings so far was spent at Dominion Beach -- I just love being in the ocean and walking barefoot in the sand! I've also had delightful breakfast and brunch dates, taken day trips to Mabou and Halifax, enthusiastically consumed delicious food at Ribfest and Crab Fest, attended the Pride Parade, and taken in a concert at the Jazz Festival. In and around all of this, I've had a chapter published by Oxford UP, done the final edit of a chapter for a forthcoming collection, and made significant progress on an ongoing research project (fun with transcriptions!) with a plan to submit an article to a journal in the coming months. Add to the mix my actual job and you can understand why I needed a vacation from my blog.

Today, however, I felt the urge to share a recent experience with you. As some of you who follow this blog already know, a while back I became trapped in a YouTube vortex watching videos about bullet journals. What you likely don't know, because I haven't been blogging, is that I actually gave in and started a bullet journal about 5 weeks ago, despite my initial skepticism. It's a simple layout that I've developed to accomplish weekly tasks (like cleaning) and bigger goals (like finishing the fibre arts journal article), and to record good things and funny happenings (a little positivity in the mayhem we call life). It's more functional than it is pretty, and I'm ok with that.

Well, in the process of setting up my bujo and making task lists, I also did some reflecting. And one of the things I realized is how much I neglect the floors in my apartment. I swiffer and/or vacuum if I have company coming, but otherwise the dust just sort of collects. I often feel extreme guilt about it, but that doesn't motivate me to take action to fix the situation. And while I know that I technically do have time to clean, I either am so busy with work and other activities that I just want to enjoy downtime or the prospect of moving furniture to do a good job is just overwhelming. I needed a better solution.

My friend Diane has always said that if there is a problem that can be solved by throwing money at it, then you should throw the money. The obvious solution was a robotic vacuum and, I admit, for the past two years, I've considered getting one. I haven't because of the price. "Perhaps this year a robotic vacuum should be my Christmas to-me-from-me-gift," I thought aloud as I absentmindedly typed into the search bar of Amazon. The results focused my mind. There before my eyes was a robotic vacuum for 50% off. After reading a few reviews and confirming the quality of the brand, I impulsively purchased it. Christmas in July, anyone?

My Deebot M81 Pro arrived about a week later. I was very excited to run it for the first time. I set up the docking station in my hallway, charged the robot, and then hit the "auto" button on the remote. I watched it zigzag and wondered how long it would take before Deedee (yes, I named my robot) found her way down the hall. I went and sat on my sofa. Sure enough, about 5 minutes later, Deedee came hurtling down the hallway, taking a boot tray with her. I had read in the user manual that it was important to clear any wires or fringes from her path, but never thought she could move a boot tray. She's more powerful than she appears. I watched her work for about an hour and periodically moved things (chairs, piano bench, rolling chocolate cart) so that she could cover as much ground as possible. She did a very thorough job before returning to her docking station.

Brilliant.

A few days later, I again ran her on auto in my bedroom and office. Clean carpet is grand. A few days after that, I ran her in the living room and was once again impressed with her work. The next time I ran her, on a Friday evening, I used the manual remote function to spot clean. It's sort of like having a remote control car -- or so I imagine, since I never had one as a kid. Anyway, as I was directing her around the apartment, I accidentally hit the wrong button on the remote, but quickly rectified the situation (or so I thought) and sent her back to her docking station. I had an incredible sense of satisfaction that my floor was so clean. It was the same sense you get after doing laundry -- feeling like you have your life together because you have clean underwear. I know you know that feeling.

Well, I went about my business doing my Friday night meal-planning and grocery list-writing, and went to bed around my usual time. I haven't been sleeping great because of the humidity, but it seems exhaustion took over and I fell into a solid sleep. Solid, that is, until I came fully awake after hearing a loud crash.

I thought there was an intruder in my apartment.

I sat up in bed in a full-on panic. What was going on? How did someone get in? What was I going to do? I put on my glasses and got out of bed and moved towards my bedroom door. That's when I realized I could hear a motor running. I stepped into the hallway and there was Deedee: hurtling herself toward the living room, dragging my straight iron with her. I chased after her, grabbed the straightener, and put it back in its place. Then I ran down the hallway and got the remote so that I could send her back to her docking station. It was 5:21am. Exactly 12 hours after I had accidentally hit that button on the remote.

Groggily I reviewed the user manual and discovered the button I hit was the scheduling function. Hold it for three seconds and it will clear the schedule. "Lovely," says I. Problem solved. And off to the pool I went.

I thought nothing more of it until that night (Saturday) when I once again came wide awake at midnight. I could hear Deedee once again hurtling herself down the hallway. Off to the living room I sprinted to get the remote and send her back to her docking station. I googled the problem. Apparently, if you set a cleaning schedule and then cancel it, the default is for the robot to clean every night at midnight. Who thought that was a good idea? Grumbling, I followed the robot reset instructions in the manual. "There. Problem solved," I said and went back to bed.

On Sunday night, I went to bed at my usual time. I slept fairly solidly. When I woke up at 4am, I was feeling great. Deedee hadn't woken me up at midnight, so clearly the reset had worked. I made my way to the bathroom. On my way back to my bedroom, I happened to glance down at the docking station. Deedee wasn't there.

What in the?

I put on a pair of glasses and walked down the hallway looking for her and discovered her next to my sofa, tangled in the power cord for my laptop. I gently picked her up and unwrapped the cord, then set her back down on the floor. I hit the button to return her to the docking station, but her battery was dead, so I lifted her up and carried her back home.

This was getting ridiculous. What was I going to do? Remove her battery and only put it in when I planned to use her? That seemed to defeat the purpose. Sleep with the remote next to my bed? That would only work if I actually woke up while she was running. There was no way I needed my apartment vacuumed every night -- a waste of energy. I also didn't need the frustration of whatever mess she might get herself into. I googled the company and located a customer support email address, and went back to bed.

Later that day, I began an email discussion with the manufacturer. They insisted that a reset of the robot while it was on the docking station was the solution. I would know it was successful if I heard three beeps. I tried it multiple times, but instead of getting the three beeps, the robot shut itself off. Eventually the company offered a replacement robot. Not wanting to go through the process of a return, I decided to try doing a reset with Deedee removed from the docking station. Sure enough, after three seconds, I heard three beeps. And having made it through Monday night without her running on her own, I am hopeful now that everything is back to normal and as it should be.

Now, you may be wondering how I know whether she ran or not, since she would just re-dock herself assuming she didn't get into trouble. I thought about that as well. Last night before bed, I placed an obstacle in her path in the hallway -- light enough for her to move if she does run. It wasn't repositioned when I woke up this morning, so I think I can safely assume she didn't venture down the hallway last night.

Interestingly, one of the selling points of this robot is that there is a smartphone app available. Instead of the remote, you can control the robot using your phone. In fact, if you use that feature, the robot will apparently send you a text message if it gets into trouble while cleaning (for example, tangled in the power cord of one's laptop). While I think that's a neat feature, it's not something that I want or need, since I only plan to run Deedee on auto about once or twice a week when I'm home so that I can move items as required (and supervise). It also is a slightly complicated set-up that requires resetting one's router, connecting the Deebot to wifi, and syncing it with your phone. Just not necessary for my purposes.

But I also can't help but think of Dan Brown's book Origin. If you haven't read it already, then I suggest you stop reading my blog now -- I don't want to be accused of spoiling it for anyone. That book is about artificial intelligence. In it, Winston, a quantum computer AI assistant, orchestrates a murder. Now, I'm not saying that Deedee would be so bold, but I'm not sure I want to take the chance after the somewhat tumultuous start to our relationship.