The Plant

Waaaay back in August (which, can I just say, seems like it was about a decade ago?), I decided that it would be a good idea to buy a plant because after two years of not having any outdoor space, we finally moved to an apartment with a porch. I had this lovely vision of filling the porch with hanging, flowering plants that would fill the neighbors with love and cheer every time they looked upon our porch. Of course, I very conveniently forgot that I don't necessarily LIKE plants. And for the most part, they don't really like me either. And also? Flowering plants attract flying insects of all kinds and there are few things in this world that give me the heeby-jeebies as much as flying insects do.

Luckily, McMoose had the presence of mind to suggest that perhaps, I should start with one plant and work my way up to the lush, garden of Eden I had pictured. And after about a week of living with the plant, the novelty was COMPLETELY GONE. The thing is, I've never really had much of a green thumb, so plants tend to die pretty quickly under my care. Just ask McMoose about the expensive, flowering plant that he so tragically left in my care for a week. So from previous experience, I fully expected this plant to have a lifespan of maybe 3 weeks.

Seven months later, the plant is still around. Not only is it around, but for the past seven months, this has been the most magically tenacious plant I HAVE EVER SEEN. It has cheerfully gone for weeks with no water. It has lived in the darkest corner of our dining room all winter, where it gets no sunlight whatsoever. It has put up with both cats eating its leaves, digging in its dirt, and using it as a hiding place when they're stalking each other. And yet, it persisted.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, our water started smelling (and tasting) awfully suspicious. McMoose says it's an excess of chlorine in the water supply; I say it's an excess of dead and decomposing fish. So I watered the plant shortly after the change in water AND THE VERY NEXT DAY, the leaves were turning yellow and falling out by the handful. Right now, it's the sickliest looking plant I've ever seen. And as it turns out, I've actually become attached to the thing over the past few months, which might help explain why I spent 30 minutes this morning looking up ways to save dying plants instead of writing up the last section of my thesis.

Oh, and also? I drink about 50 ounces of this so-called water every day. And if one little cup was enough to kill a plant with an indomitable will to live, I'm assuming that means that either (a) it's giving me cancer or (b) The Bug will be born with three ears.