So Sallie Says

Here are the products I thought were going to change my life but didn’t.

The Litter Robot 

If you’re not familiar with this product, it’s basically what it says it is: a robot that cleans up cat litter. Sounds great, right: cats always have a clean box, and their staff doesn’t have to scoop poop and pee every day. I’m not going to get too far into the mechanics of it, other than that it’s a giant globe (pay attention, that part will be on the quiz) that rotates to filter out clumps into a discrete bin to be emptied every few days. The base retail price is $699, but you do need to regularly replace filters and liners, and when it malfunctions while you’re away for Thanksgiving and your cats pee all over your furniture it may also cost you $3,500 for a new sectional. Consider yourself warned! 

If you can believe it, my biggest issue with this thing was not the fact that it rarely worked great during its three-year tenure taking up most of my laundry room while smelling like a porta-potty. No. For a product that supposedly alleviates litter clean-up, deep-cleaning it was a quarterly event that disrupted the lives of our cats, children, neighbors, and therapists for a whole day. Imagine your hose on Jet mode, water spraying into the Litter Robot’s giant globe (remember that part?), then directly back at you. There’s no way poo molecules don’t get into your eyeballs. Then you have to leave it outside all day, rotating it with the angle of the sun so the cavernous abyss dries out.

Anyway, I’m much happier now that I’ve reverted to a normal litter box, but I bet the guy that bought mine off Facebook Marketplace is wishing I had de-influenced him.

Instant Pot

The Instant Pot is a feat of marketing and that’s the only nice thing I’ll say about it. I am very selective when it comes to kitchen gadgets and appliances, and while I was intrigued by the multifunctionality of the Instant Pot you can count on one finger the number of settings I’ve actually used. It just goes to show that buying a yogurt maker will probably not make you any more likely to make yogurt. Anyway, the real beef I have with this thing (and ironically, beef is the only thing I’ve cooked in it) is its lies. Most of the recipes online are called something like “15-Minute Pot Roast” and while it is true that it’s relatively quick, these recipes don’t include the time it actually takes to build up and release pressure. I didn’t realize this the first time I used it so I had to be hungry for 30 more minutes than I was anticipating and I’ve held a grudge ever since. I also feel like it has the same effect as a crock pot where really what you’re ending up with is a lot of wet meat. Bon appetit, sicko.

Elvie pumps

I bought the Elvie wearable pumps on a very desperate day early in my breastfeeding journey, and with too many cons and too few pros they never felt worth the money I spent (and because I have no life I’ve already written about this). They’re not discreet, they take too much adjusting to be comfortable and effective, they’re not strong, and they leak if you’re anything other than still and perfectly upright. I’ve heard that many of those things are characteristic for other wearable pumps, so if you need to be hands-free I would lower your budget and lower your expectations.

Cricut

My hypothesis is that everyone who buys a Cricut thinks they’re going to start a hugely successful Etsy shop, and I’m here to tell them to snap out of it (by “them,” I mean me in 2021). Truthfully, I thought I was going to be able to open the box and immediately start making beautiful and complex projects without reading any instructions or watching any tutorials (after all I’m a 💅professional designer💅). Well, that didn’t happen and I don’t appreciate machines calling me an idiot. I do lowkey maintain that my machine had a defect because it always cut out of alignment or with too little pressure. Irritating!!

And if you want to check out my Etsy shop it’s here. No Cricut-created items available.

Buying a new car if you have kids

The only time I’ve ever bought a new car was right before I had kids because I’m an idiot (don’t tell my Cricut). Listen to me: if you have children or plan to have children, you don’t need a “hot mom car,” you need a used mini van that comes pre-dented, already smells like crayons, and has Goldfish and raisins deep in every crevice. You can get a new car when you retire.

In conclusion, I realize that in the fairly near future probably no one is going to be buying anything they don’t have to, but if you were somehow on the fence about buying a $700 litter box right before the global economy collapses no one can say I didn’t do my part to persuade you otherwise.