Today, continuing a 3-weekend run of totally being the cheese to my macaroni, Craig bought me a Roomba. So I now have my own robot vacuum cleaner, which I have named Rosie, in my hopes that she is the harbinger of an entire Jetson-esque lifestyle of push-button bathrooms, dog walkers, and meals in pill form.
Oh, and, just to make sure, it's a ROOMBA. Not a Woomba. It's gonna clean my business, but *definitely* not my lady business. That would totally mess up Thursday's ultrasound.
Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out to my sweet husband who shares my plans of world domination by janitorial robot and also supports the fact that I shouldn't be carrying 50-pound vacuums up the stairs in my delicate condition.