From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

Let’s be honest, my history with plants was more “crime scene” than “greenhouse.” I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. You know, those spiky desert dwellers that practically thrive on neglect? Yeah, not even they were safe from my lethal lack of green thumb.

But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was just the siren song of a clearance-rack succulent (they were practically begging to be rescued, okay?). Whatever it was, I brought home a little pot of green and braced myself for the inevitable plant funeral.

Except… it didn’t die. In fact, it thrived! It sprouted new leaves, stood a little taller, and basically became my own personal symbol of hope in a world that felt increasingly chaotic. And thus began my journey into the wonderful, weird, and surprisingly hilarious world of plant parenthood.

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