I do not believe that having superpowers would make us as naturally heroic as we like to think.  It would only perpetuate the practices that we have already inured ourselves to.  At least, that is the probable path of telekinesis.

Oh, the possibilities.  You could have patients swallow nanites, set up a scanner, handle instruments with only your mind.  You could rush to disaster zones, lift cars and wreckage, and extricate the injured from a safe distance.  You could remove hazardous waste.

Or you could lie down on the couch and bring the remote control two inches closer that it lands in your hand.  Of course, why would you want to go to all the effort of pushing the buttons with your hand when your brain could apply that pressure for you?  Who wants the physical exertion of grasping an item, contracting the muscles around your thumb, and forcing that rubber button down?  Ooof.  All that manual labor and you will need a nap.  You should probably lie down.  Oh hey, you already are!  Yeah, your brain is working hard enough pushing all those buttons.  Rest up.

Except all that button pushing will really use up the batteries.  And those are kept in the fridge.  Which is, what, ten whole feet away?  (Okay, seven.)  Honestly though, we need to take it easy while we can.  I hope you do not strain your noggin as you telekinetically open the drawer, send two batteries around the corner, and swap them out.  What?  The fridge drawer did not close itself?  Oh, cruel world!  How much will you demand from us in our pathetic state?

There is one area where I would absolutely love to have telekinesis.  Cat care.  It really is a three-handed job. 

• Giving a cat pills.  One hand is needed to hold the cat down.  One is needed to hold their mouth open.  If mental powers could be used to precisely insert the pill at the back of their mouth and not have them force it right back out onto the carpet.  (Stupid quick-dissolving pills and their slimy betrayals.  Maintain a proper mass!) 

• Removing eye boogers.  Cats get eye crusties.  They are easy enough to remove, if the cat lets you.  The slimy ones are unpleasant.  Let the brain powers take care of that.

• Toothbrushing.  Growing up, I was never told that I would have to brush my cat’s teeth.  I figured, “Hey, cats have been around for tens of thousands of years.  Odds are, they can survive.  They have the dexterity to clean their own, well, everything.”  But not teeth?  Really?  If we have become so “advanced” that we get new skills then I suppose it is only fair that our pets get to be lazy too.  However, the instant we invent electric toothbrushes with organic toothpaste for pets, I am out. (The toothbrush should be self-cleaning as well.)

• Poop removal.  No, I am not talking about the litter box.  That is far too easy a task.  I refer to that neat and special time when your cat has not hydrated themselves properly.  And their poop gets stuck in their bum.  And they are uncomfortable, so they are mad at you, and wiggling, and you have to hold them down.  And their poop is sticking out just enough that you could grab it.  But you do not want to touch it.  And they want to scratch at you.  Using telekinesis to pull that out of their butt without putting your hands anywhere near their butt sounds like heaven to me.  Well, heaven with cat poop.  And butts.

• Scratching your cat until they purr.  Just kidding.  If you do not want to scritch them under their chin, scratch them behind their ears, give nose boops, or rub your forehead against them, then you should not have a cat.  Some activities should always be hands on.

(And you definitely, without-exception, should never use weird robots to try and take on pet care.  It does not require brain power to know that.)