Yesterday I was bemoaning the fact that my desk plant at work just isn’t pretty anymore. I thought I was by myself, and so I was talking out loud. Then a co-worker that I didn’t realize was standing right there turned around and said, “Well, what’s wrong with it?”
I didn’t know, other than that it looks, oh, I don’t know, sallow and unhealthy, like a plague victim in the early stages. Like a doctor on the scene, she stepped forward and took a good, close look. After peering at it for a moment and gently stroking the long, sharp leaves of the plant, she said, “well, I’m not sure. You might be over-watering it.”
“But,” I protested, “I barely give it any water at all. Just a light drizzle from the tap when I do.”
“How often?” she asked.
I spent what I felt was way too long trying to think of an answer that wouldn’t make me sound like an idiot. “How often?” she repeated.
“Every day…but not on weekends.”
“No.”
“…No?”
“No,” she said, almost scolding me. “You shouldn’t water any plant every single day, let alone this one. I think this one is a member of the cactus family.”
What I thought was this:
“Vraiment? How intriguing. I’d never have guessed; for its likeness to any other member of the genus Echinocereus I know bears the same amount of credibility as the comparison of a rhinoceros to a jar of orange marmalade – in other words, hardly any at all.”
What fell out of my mouth was this:
“But it don’t look like no cactus.”
Apparently, Janis (my plant is named after Janis Joplin, that’s right) is a type of cactus and I should only be watering her about once a week. I feel pretty bad for not knowing this; I could have drowned her. On the other hand, now that I do know it, I am free to neglect her, which is very convenient for me. I have a reminder set to lightly water the plant every Monday, and if I miss a week, it’s okay. She’ll be just fine…unless she’s already dead.
I do not have a green thumb.