…making sure my wife never loses her car keys. Or sunglasses. Or the checkbook.
They’re tireless.
They’re analytical and only rely on the facts.
They’re relentless.
They invest more energy to solve one crime than could ever conceivably be really spent without bodies and fluid samples getting heaped into a pile.
Man, if I could get them to focus on something, it would be…I know: Getting me through the line at the DMV!!
Heck, let them deconstruct both Kennedy assassinations, with enough time after the last commercial break to wrap up Chappaquiddick.
Two…
the Ripper and Lizzie Borden.
No no no - I want them working for me. Folding my laundry (“well, I fluffed this set of t-shirts a fourth time to ensure they were appropriately wrinkle free”), doing my weeding (“I only spent 17 hours in the backyard combing through foliage; I better stay late tonight”) or preparing my coffee (“I achieved a precise pre-boiling point for the Somalian dark roast, per protocols…”)…
I just want them vacuuming my carpet. “I found a dark hair.” A hair? As in single, solitary, only one? Please oh please come vacuum my house so that when the next team searches for trace evidence, hair is hard to find.