Last week our ceiling was removed and replaced, so CJ and I avoided home as much as possible. We had an extremely delicious lamb roast at the home of an ex of mine, who happened to have a house-cleaning robot buzzing around in the hall. Based on his blasé offer to lend it to us* and the fact that plaster dust takes days to settle, we borrowed it for several days and had enormous fun watching it disappear under the couch, terrify our cats, and fumble about dizzily when its low battery prompted it to plug itself back in (at one stage we had a dinner party and the poor robot had half a dozen people shouting directions at it and trying to herd it back to its dock).
Oh! And my ex also lend us a clever little device about the size of a computer mouse which shoots out a line of laser light that the robot refuses to cross (we placed it at the top of the stairs for fairly obvious reasons).
I promised you lasers, as I recall.
*I now suspect that this was all some kind of cunning revenge plan, since the robot always gravitated towards my ankles, plaintively bumping into me and whirring frantically as its under-whiskers tickled my bare skin. SUSPICIOUS.