We live in an age of techno wonders – drones, talking devices that tell us the time in Kuala Lumpur and how long to boil an egg. Our smartphones can adjust the thermostat and raise the window shades. But helpless, hapless, middle-aged me still needs help.
Here’s a list of techno-assists I desire:
- A buzzer that trumpets when a certain “someone” jams more garbage into/on top of the kitchen trashcan than it can contain.
- A camera — much like the one that IDs traffic scofflaws who fail to pay tolls at bridges — to finger the same kitchen culprit who uses the last of the mayonnaise, the mustard, and any number of other cooking essentials but fails to list them on the shopping list. I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost track of the times I’ve gone to make dinner only to be stymied when reaching into the pantry for one of those staples only to discover it’s missing. Just last night, I was preparing my tried-and-true chicken casserole. I reached for the canned cream of mushroom soup, but it was AWOL. And my dinner dish? Well, it was AWFUL.
- An automatic glass tabletop washer, akin to the sprayers at the carwash. Do I hear a collective “amen,” ladies?
- A kitchen counter Roomba that wipes down grimy surfaces and the sink. Won’t it be nice to be greeted each morning by sunshine and bright shiny counters! Can I get a second “amen,” ladies?
- And speaking of Roombas, how about one for the bathtub? Scrub-a-Dub-Dub. Who’d need three men in a tub if we had a turbo-charged scrubber on the job?
- How about a vegetable bin warning system that alerts us when lettuce wilts, celery droops, and carrots sag?
- And, oh for a press-of-the-button bed-maker! Window treatments long ago went digital. Blankets are electric. Mattress pads too. So, why can’t our bedding get pulled up with the flick of a switch or a voice command? It would be sweet relief for stiff and sore early morning middle-aged backs and knees.
- An expiration warning beacon on prescriptions, cosmetics, and groceries would be nice. Potentially life-saving too.
- And finally, if only there was a tiny railroad track with a built-in timer to take the garbage cans to the street on garbage day. It gets old chasing the sanitation men down the street each week in my nightgown. And now that I’m older, I don’t run as fast as I used to! My timer-based trash RR system would save me – and the trash collectors – a world of embarrassment!
I know. I should be content living in a world of robotic alarm clocks, fancy light bulbs, and smart security systems, but those items don’t address my simple daily housewifey needs.
Oh, Rube Goldberg, glorious cartoon gadgeteer of yesteryear, where are you? I yearn for order to my chaotic domestic life! Or, at the very least, a good Goldbergian laugh.