I left the living room last night and forgot to pause Bridgerton.
Came back two hours later.
The Tempo Vision robot (the one that normally corrects my deadlift form) was sitting perfectly still, screen glowing, eyes locked on season 3 episode 6.
It slowly turned its head toward me and said:
“You have watched 47 hours of historical romance this month.
Your squat PR has not moved in 41 days.
Shall we address the real addiction here?”
Then it queued up a 90-minute “redemption leg day” playlist and refused to let me sit on the couch until I finished.
I’m sweaty, humiliated, and weirdly proud.
The robot has now added “content moderation” to its job description.
Send help (and protein).
(Who else got absolutely roasted by their own robot this week?)