Help, my husband wants to talk to sockets

My husband is now dreaming of a smart house. He recently went for a beer with a technology-enthusiastic friend. Since then, he thinks it's incredible what you can do these days. They call it «intelligent, networked household appliances» - I would rather say «toys for boys». For big boys, in this case.

I also dream of devices that would make my life easier. If I can dream at all, because I'm not tidying up, writing «please do» lists for everyone or reminding my family of things they would otherwise forget. So much could be done differently, in fact.

My husband now wants to communicate with his sockets, he tells me enthusiastically, a smart socket in his hand. A promotional gift from our electricity supplier. To be honest, I don't think my husband communicates much with me. And I don't think I'm completely unintelligent. In this respect, I can't give his socket much hope of having fulfilling conversations.

The sockets in the cheerfully chatting pack

Not my husband either. I understand that it annoys him when I keep telling him in the evening about things that haven't been tidied, done or taken away. But I'm afraid there won't be much more interesting to come from his new favourite socket.

I wouldn't be able to see the full potential, my husband grumbles in offence. The sockets could also communicate with each other and that would be great for everyone. To me, that sounds more like «happy sea mammals live in a pack». I think our three children already communicate enough with each other and with us - there's no need to add sockets to the mix.

What's more, my husband says we need a smart fridge. It would order our groceries directly from the supermarket and save us time. Which I think is a shame, because I really like shopping. And my husband raves that we could then open the blinds and doors completely automatically via our mobile phone.

The digital fridge would eat out of our son's hand.

To be honest, I see more problems than solutions coming our way. At twelve years old, our son is a real digital native. You probably shouldn't call him a digital native. But he really was born into the land of swiping, downloading apps and overcoming any electronic barriers.

Smartphones, tablets and computers in our house basically do what our son wants. He would definitely eat our fridge out of his hand and order kilos of chocolate bars and Red Bull. Our son would really enjoy reprogramming the fridge with his mates, a nice gang of future hackers. My life would definitely not be any easier.

I'm already doing enough damage with my smartphone

Nor do I want to be able to do any more damage with my smartphone. I already manage to press the wrong buttons at the wrong time all the time. Then a wake-up call goes off in the living room at midnight, which I'm pretty sure I didn't programme. It was probably my son.

Unfortunately, what I really did was send the WhatsApp to our neighbour: «Toilet paper - URGENT - Gopferdamminomal!!!! P.S. Love you anyway». By mistake. It was meant to go to my husband. Since then, I prefer to leave the house when our neighbour has gone.

That's why I think that if my mobile phone could open doors, every day would be an open day for us. However, the neighbours could then bring us toilet paper, which would be handy.

I certainly dream of technologies that make life easier for us parents. But these are completely different gadgets, «toys for mums». For example, my really intelligent house would tidy itself. At the moment I'm a tidying robot and that's not fulfilling.

My really intelligent house would tidy itself up.

The cushion whispers their lists to my children

I found physics at school pretty dull. Only the law of entropy sounded fun: All things always spread out in such a way that maximum chaos is created. As a teenager, I didn't see any practical relevance.

I now realise that this law is the only one that can be used to predict processes in our house. Yes, I can even experiment with it: If I put a pack of pencils in the living room at lunchtime, I find them scattered all over the house in the evening. It doesn't matter whether someone has coloured with them or not. The pencils are just spread around.

I conclude, as our physics teacher used to say, that my family is an entropic experiment come to life. If I want to find anything in our house, I have to become an entropy exterminator. That's a full-time job that, as an intelligent woman, I don't want to have.

How cool would it be if our intelligent house scanned every new thing in the house and assigned it a place? Then in the evening, at the touch of a button, our intelligent robot vacuum cleaner starts moving, sucks in, spits out, everything is in the right place. If it ever gets lost, it can even ask the sockets.

That would make my life a lot easier. I can operate the doors and blinds myself in the meantime, my mobile phone doesn't have to worry about that. Why isn't something like this being worked on? My guess is that the developers of smart homes talk more to their sockets than to their wives. And let entropy rule in their own four walls.

Smart front doors would also be practical. Our front door could remind the children what I usually have to do a hundred times a day. When leaving: «Take your bike helmet with you! Remember your sun cream! Have you got your keys?» When you come back: «Wash your hands. Put your stuff away! CLEAR. IT. NOW. AWAY. Do you still have housework to do?»

I would like to put smart pillows in bed for my children and husband. I programme them with my lists of what needs to be done during the day. When they go to sleep, their pillows will say «Bzzzzzzzzzz - take your dirty laundry away!». And later perhaps «All done - sleep well!»

I see incredible potential here. A smart house, relaxed parents, organised children - win-win-win. My husband grumbles that it's all a load of rubbish. He now prefers to google the prices of smart sockets. He's probably just scared of his new pillow.
Picture: Fotolia