That time when I almost killed my husband’s evil plant

by Deb McCormick on February 7, 2013

If you’ve read my blog for a while you know I do not have a green thumb. At all. I can smile at a plant and it dies. Well, I have a story to tell you about this “plant” that David brought into our marriage. He and his plant were a package deal. Here’s the deal with this…”plant”. It is now 12 years old. And that makes it special. To David. He talks about this plant like it is his childhood sweetheart. He dotes on it, checks on it, and pretty much loves it unconditionally. I know the plant’s history. I know how long David has kept it alive. I know it all.

“This plant is-”

“12 years old”, I interrupt.

“It’s very-”

“Special to you, I know!” I inform him.

So the other day as I was busy doing some cleaning I noticed “plant” looked a little dry. “I should water it”, I said to myself. And so I did.

“There you go little fella…or little misses, or whatever you are”. I sat “plant” back where it came from and went on with my day.

A couple hours passed by and I noticed something just wasn’t quite right.

Great! I guess I gave it too much water. I decided to sit it outside on the deck and let the sunshine dry it out a bit. I mean that would do it, right? Surely good ole sunshine will put a spring back in its step. Ha! Brilliant! I needed the kids to leave it alone though. I was worried about them messing with it and making matters worse than they already were.“Do NOT touch this plant, kids.” “Are you listening?” “Leave. It. Alone.” “It needs to get some sunshine, OK?” “Okay, OKAY, okay, OKAY”, I heard four small voices sweetly confirm.

“Sigh, OK…everything will be fine now”, and off I went to finish some cleaning. “Man I sure hope it dries out soon!”

Unfortunately, I was unaware that the kids just finished learning about taking care of plants at school.

The rest of the day flew by. I started dinner and then went to grab “plant” to put it back in its spot before David came home from work. And I see this:

A soggy, wilted, greenish-brown, sad mess.

Tell me something. Why is the ONE thing you ask kids not to touch, the ONE thing they can’t leave alone? It looked worse than it did before I SAT IT OUTSIDE! I placed it back on the counter and was hoping things would be really crazy and loud as they usually were and David would not notice his plant. The kids were loud. Good! The kids were jumping and running all over the kitchen. Good!

Well, Crapola! Not happening.

So I go on my rant. “OK Look David, I try my best to take care of everything. YOUR plant was dry-as-a-bone. It was wilting so I gave it some water. SUE me, OK?? Something is WRONG with that “plant”, I hissed. It is purposely acting all Ohhhh, I’m siiick….Ohhhh, look what she did to me…..ooohhhhh, blah blah blah”. YOUR plant is evil and it has a BRAIN!”

“Just let me do ALL the watering and caring for my plant from now on, OK!!?” David ~~barked~~ suggested.

And since that time, I have let him do all the caring for it. I refuse to touch it, move it, or even wipe off cake batter that my blender throws its way. Whatever. And y’all, late at night? When it’s dark and I’m walking through the kitchen, I swear it hisses at me.