Ste. Peppermint
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Ste. Peppermint
An admission in the form of robotic sucking

Peppermint

This summer, I bought a robot vacuum cleaner. Vie promptly named her Peppermint (she/her).


Peppermint and I have a symbiotic relationship: She was built for vacuuming. I was not.


She doesn’t crash into the walls. I crash vacuum cleaners into things like I was genetically born to it. Our's is a union destined by the gods.


One thing about Peppermint, though, she plays rough in her territory. She drags dolls across the floor by their hair and she’ll happily de LOL a room of the little, tiny, plastic accessories that make the dolls so ever-loving-fun. Peppermint’s daily tour is brutal and without prejudice – when it is go time, it is go time.


She also gets hung up easily and we’ve found her dangling from a window shade cord, jammed in a corner of a Disney Princess Castle, and haplessly stalled in the middle of the room.


To keep the peace with the vacuum cleaner, we’ve created a little ritual called Pick Up For Peppermint! – a group effort to limit the victims and victors of Peppermint’s daily campaign.


The kittens, however, do not observe Pick Up For Peppermint! They do not see a benefit to Pick Up For Peppermint! at all. According to the kittens, little ribbons and wires aren’t meant to be put into a basket – they must be set free and skittering across the floor.

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Today Malcom was playing in the living room when I turned Peppermint loose. Not a minute later, despite having spent the previous fifteen minutes Picking Up for Peppermint! the vacuum cleaner sounded like is was dragging something in its roller. Peppermint made her way across the room while Malcom wobbled after her. After I dislodged his toy, Malcom wandered off, sideways with distrust.


The fact of the matter is, everyone but me kinda hates Peppermint. After all, she isn't making anyone else's life easier. Just mine.


 So Peps and I hang out together. She zips around , sucking stuff up and I sit in a corner spitting stuff out. I've come to think of her as my secret friend, like my own snuffleupagus.



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Peppermint is also more than that. She's my admission to myself that I do not have to vacuum the floors. You see, I've decided to make my admissions delightful.


Like the admission that I have writer's block and my creative mind looks like an expensive Aha video. Which is to say the concept's is lost in the lyrics right now.


I make my living as a writer.. So my non writing is pretty awesomely not good. Nothing has worked. Thank the bees that I know how to cook.

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