Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

I made a big deal out of getting a Roomba. Before ordering my 630, I read a bunch of reviews like anyone else. Since I didn't know anyone personally with a Roomba, the importance of this purchase seemed a bit heightened. I spent a lot of time daydreaming about the Roomba, fantasizing about spotless carpet and sparkling linoleum. I could never wrap my head around how a motorized disc could possess such navigational intelligence. Would it really adjust from surface to surface and avoid rooms that had a virtual wall? And what exactly is a virtual wall? I imagined those invisible dog fences that no one uses for anything but practical jokes anymore. I found my 630 for $50 less on another site and quickly did the math. $300 for a robot that will clean my floors everyday for possibly several years, according to some of the reviews I've read on Amazon that attest to Roomba's life expectancy. That breaks down to about a quarter a day if it lasts 2.5 years and I remember to press the "Clean" button everyday. Upon receipt of my robot, I pored over the manual while sitting on the toilet, and marveled at the box while sitting on the floor. I took a few photos of the whole process as if I had adopted a child, anticipating a future day in which Roomba reminiscing was the highlight of my day (I don't even have a pet, so you can draw your conclusions henceforth). I yanked the yellow sticker out of the battery area and it made a BING, BONG kind of noise, followed by a woman's voice. "Roomba initiated," it stirred. Or maybe that was me. I took some time to Roomba-proof my condo. I scanned each room, desperate to find something loose and precarious with minimal luck. Grudgingly I resorted to sprinkling toaster crumbs on the carpet, wincing while doing so. Toaster crumbs for the uninitiated are those mystery bits of toast that fall out of the bottom of every toaster manufactured since the first steam-powered locomotive. Like everyone else I held my breath before pressing "Clean" for the first time. For its maiden voyage I allowed Roomba to charge completely and nestled its docking station in the most unassuming corner of the living room. Roomba appeared poised for action and its shiny two-tone casing beamed against the mood lights I dimmed especially for the occasion. I retrieved a microbrew from my largest appliance and returned to my newest, smaller appliance to finally press that "Clean" button. Roomba responded instantly to my touch and emitted six or seven more BING BONGS as it eased its way out of the dock the way a cat daintily--even trepidatiously--explores new territory. And then, with a muted, mechanized thump, Roomba sprung into its tallest gear, tearing toward the leg of a folding chair. I resisted the urge to move the chair and stood frozen as Roomba continued approaching at full bore, closing in like a lazy donkey courting six year-olds at the county fair before suddenly shifting into low gear and lightly nudging the chair leg. Thumbing through the manual, I learned to attribute this behavior to Roomba's multitude of object sensors. I would later discover that the Roomba Nudge is the robot's mating ritual, hugging any object it finds and hewing closely to its edge, circling it in a dominant, proud display of hygienic bravado. I've owned my Roomba for a week now and have yet to tire of its antics. Roomba cleans better than expected and doesn't fuss or hiss or howl, nor does Roomba sound like an idling Cessna. It's easy to empty the AeroVac bin and wipe off the brushes. It's easy to have a casual chat in the same room as the robot, and it's even easier to move out of the way. But perhaps the easiest thing about owning a Roomba 630 is pressing the "Clean" button and then writing my review on the toilet.