There are a lot of things I can do in life.
I can vote and drive a car. I can crochet, sew, knit (to a small extent), latch hook, tablet weave, lucet, cross stitch, and nalbind. I can write books and poems and dramatic monologues. I can play a few songs on the piano. I can even tell the difference between yarrow, Queen Anne's Lace, and poison hemlock.
There are also a lot of things I can't do in life. I can't swallow more than one pill at a time. I can't sing well or play the guitar. I can't run a mile in less than eleven minutes. I can't pronounce the word "ration" for some reason. I can't sleep unless the room is completely dark and I can't watch the new Star Trek: Picard series without having a panic attack. More frustratingly, I can't keep plants alive.
There are exceptions. By some miracle, the plant my mom gave me for Valentine's Day is still alive. It doesn't have any flowers and I really need to get around to picking off the dead leaves, but the plant itself is still vibrant green. I've got a pepper plant in the front yard that produced a single wrinkly red pepper, and I've got a few herbs that are barely producing. But mostly, my plants die.
My crowning inglorious moment was when I managed to kill an aloe plant. Aloe Vera is supposed to be notoriously hard to kill. I forgot to water it for about three months straight and then overcompensated.
So finally, I bit the bullet and got me a plastic plant.
Hobby Lobby has a vast array of fake plants. I love it. They have flowers and leaves and everything in between, in all the colors you can think of. The plant I purchased looks sort of like oregano--it has lots of small leaves arranged on creeping stems. It was either that or a fern. I have an irrational love of ferns; they're right up there with yarrow and wild fruit-bearing plants on my list of favorite flora. But the fake oregano was cheaper.
You know, everyone has things that they just can't do. And that's okay. The modern world has done a pretty good job of supplementing our inadequacies. If you can't bake your own cupcakes, store-bought is fine. If you can't grow your own houseplants, plastic is fine. If you can't raise your own chickens, trade a pot of chili for a dozen eggs. If you're nice, you'll get your Tupperware back.
Well, I have to go don a little black dress with a white apron and grab my feather duster. The house isn't going to clean itself, and I've already been procrastinating. How's your luck with houseplants--or, if you're lucky, a vegetable garden? Let me know in the comments below! God bless you, dear readers, and don't forget to review us on Amazon!
M. J. Piazza is a Jesus-loving, dog-walking country girl who just so happens to write books.