I never would have thought that coffee would become my enemy.
Confused? So am I. You see, my beloved Leonardo Gourmet Latte & Espresso Machine is trying to kill me.
Actually, all my household appliances are on a murderous rampage.
Yes, I realize my eye is twitching. Yours would be, too, if you were living my nightmare!
It happened again this morning. As usual, I rolled out of bed as RITA played my wake up tune, "Morning Mood" from Grieg's Peer Gynt Suite.
You're kidding! You don't know RITA? Well, I suppose you wouldn't. She's all the rage among tech industry experts like me. RITA stands for Residential Intel-appliance Task Assistant. She's basically my virtual butler.
Anyway, I stretched and said, "Another Hump Day, Rita," as I headed for the shower.
To my shock, she replied, "Yes, it is. I've heard that line 47 times."
I was flabbergasted! RITA had never made a snarky remark to me before!
Then she had the nerve to add, "The floor sensors report that you have gained 2.8 pounds since last week. Would you like to skip your nightly hot fudge sundae?"
It was the same, mechanized voice I have always known and loved, but suddenly, her tone echoed my nagging ex-wife.
I ignored her question and proceeded with my morning routine. My shower temperature, which RITA maintains at an optimal 101 degrees, seemed a bit chilly, and my toast was a tad dark, but I didn't think much about it. Even technology can have a bad day.
It was the coffee that really concerned me, however. RITA instructs Leonardo to begin grinding the coffee beans when my shower ends so that a large vanilla latte awaits me following breakfast. I work remotely as a computer programmer, and an excellent cup of coffee helps me to face email, online meetings, and other human interactions.
What was wrong with the coffee? Well, nothing, at first. It seemed positively perfect, as usual. But then, as my supervisor was droning on about budgets, I noticed a very unpleasant, gritty sensation. I peered into the bottom of my cup and was aghast. There in the last sips of my beverage were–oh, I am so appalled I can hardly say it–COFFEE GROUNDS!
A raised eyebrow? That's all I get in response to this travesty?
I notice that you drink your caffeinated brew from a styrofoam cup, so I suppose that explains your reaction.
What happened next?
Well, I took RITA to task, of course. I told her to run a system diagnostic to determine if any updates were needed or if, heaven forbid, there was a cyber attack on our security system. She completed her scans, then responded that she detected nothing out of the ordinary.
So, I went about my day. Leonardo brewed me a new latte, free of grounds, and the morning went smoothly.
During lunch I pulled some chicken and vegetables from the freezer and put them in my QuickCooker pot. I told RITA to begin the cooking cycle at 4:30 so everything would be finished when my work day ended. She responded, "I'll be happy to, Charles," as she always does, but I noticed that her tone sounded, well, almost sarcastic. I made a mental note to check her voice modulation settings and then went back to work.
As usual, RITA sent the Vac-tastic out at 4:00 to dust and vacuum the entire house. I've become so accustomed to it, I don't even find it distracting any more. In fact, I normally enjoy the whirring and clicking of the machinery.
While Vac-tastic made its rounds, RITA also started a load of unmentionables I had placed in the washing machine. The steam cleaner jets began disinfecting the bathroom, and the Intelli-Blinds gave the windows a quick cleansing spritz as they lowered for the evening.
I was shutting down my work computer at precisely 5:00 when I heard a loud crash in my bedroom. I went to investigate and found Vac-tastic's robotic dusting arm swinging wildly. It had knocked over one of the Smart-Lamps, which was wildly flashing through its color palette. The grabber arm clasped a vase of Solar Posies and hurled it at the smart-tv monitor, narrowly missing my head.
"RITA!" I yelled. "Shut down Vac-tastic!"
And do you know what she said?
"Unable to connect. Engage manual shutdown."
Can you believe that? My virtual butler told me to handle my problem myself!
What did I do? Well, I ran over to hit the manual shutdown button like she told me to, but that crazy Vac-tastic parked itself under the bed.
Just then, I heard loud banging in the laundry closet. Guessing that the load might be off-balance, I ran into the hall to find the washing machine wobbling through the closet doorway. Suddenly, RITA's whole home sound system began blaring Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries" as the washing machine lid slammed open and soggy underwear flew out of the machine.
At that moment, I realized the pleasant aroma of cooking chicken had been replaced by pungent smoke. RITA said calmly, "Warning: A fire has been detected in our home. Please stay calm and exit the residence."
"What's on fire, RITA?" I yelled as I squeezed past the rocking washer and stumbled to the kitchen.
"You are, Charles," RITA said, and I swear to you, she sounded positively gleeful! Suddenly, a blaze shot out of Leonardo as if it was a flame-thrower! That thing singed my goatee!
And then what?
What do you think?
I screamed and ran for the front door, which, miraculously, was standing wide open. It slammed shut behind me, but I didn't turn around. I just ran all the way here.
What's that? I know this is the third time I've reported problems with my house.
The officer didn't find anything out of place?
But I'm telling you, RITA and the appliances want to kill me!
Wait–where are we going? I assure you–I don't need to see a robo-doctor!
