A Clean Run

I walked back inside from the hardware store and headed toward the hallway, only to find the robot vacuum stranded sideways over the threshold. It had run its drive wheel directly onto an abandoned white athletic sock, choking its undercarriage until its error light was blinking like an idiot. I stepped up onto the bumper, planted my boot against the plastic casing, and worked the snagged cotton fibers out of the rubber roller rib by rib. Once the tangled thread gave way, the roller spun freely with a quiet click. I tapped the restart button with my heel and watched it roll off in a straight line. If you give a machine half a brain, the least you can do is keep your dirty laundry out of its gears.