Confessions of a Former Plant Killer
Okay, I’ll admit it—I used to be a notorious plant killer. I’m talking serial succulent assassin, notorious fern forgetter, a black thumb extraordinaire. If a plant had the misfortune of entering my home, its life expectancy plummeted faster than my patience during rush hour traffic.
And that, my friends, is where my journey into the unexpected joys of plant parenthood began.
The Zen of Watering (Yes, Really!)
Who knew that something as simple as watering a plant could be so… therapeutic? As someone who spends an embarrassing amount of time glued to screens, the act of tending to my plants has become a surprisingly mindful ritual.
There’s something incredibly grounding about feeling the cool soil between your fingers, misting delicate leaves, and watching water trickle down thirsty vines. It’s like a mini meditation session without the awkward chanting or pretzel-like yoga poses.
Plants: More Than Just Decor, They’re Practically Family
I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But once you start naming your plants (don’t pretend you haven’t!), it’s a slippery slope to full-blown plant parenthood. Suddenly, you’re invested in their well-being, celebrating new growth like a proud parent, and maybe even talking to them occasionally (again, no judgment!).
But here’s the thing: they listen without judgment, they don’t talk back (unless you count that one time my monstera mysteriously unfurled a new leaf right after I complained about my boss…), and they brighten up your living space like nobody’s business. Plus, they’re way less messy than pets (unless you overwater… but we don’t talk about that).