Money Plant
Finally, I did it. Today.
It was a couple of months ago, when I was still new to work. I had noticed two glass jars with little green leaves of the money plant, that a friendly colleague had at her desk. I had marveled aloud their beauty. The next moment I knew, she walked up to my desk, and placed a glass jar right below the white light. That was when, unwillingly, for a silly comment passed in an attempt to be nice, the responsibility of a living species was thrust on me. No, I did not have the courage to refuse.
A week or two passed. A casual glance and I see the water was almost gone, there were more brown leaves than initially green leaves, there were thin slimy roots coiled up. I swore.
It was filthy and smelly. I cringed, but cleaned it up.
It was almost back to the same dirty state before I left for my vacations. I smirked and escaped, assuming just like my work, someone else would have to take care of it in my absence.
I was back, and I met the sight. The sight of the money plant glass jar. In the same state as I had left it. Obviously, no one had attended to it.
It has been two weeks I have been telling myself that after all it is just a plant. Alright, so it stinks, sometimes you do too. Come on, be a woman!
Finally, I did it. Today.
It neither was filthy, nor did it smell. There were green leaves. I drained the water, cleaned the jar, and filled it with fresh water. I cut the roots, and plucked the brown leaves. I washed the stems and arranged them in the jar. I brought it back to my desk.
Occasionally, I turn back from my screen, to look at it. It looks pretty.
So much for a new relationship. I am starting to love my money plant.
It was a couple of months ago, when I was still new to work. I had noticed two glass jars with little green leaves of the money plant, that a friendly colleague had at her desk. I had marveled aloud their beauty. The next moment I knew, she walked up to my desk, and placed a glass jar right below the white light. That was when, unwillingly, for a silly comment passed in an attempt to be nice, the responsibility of a living species was thrust on me. No, I did not have the courage to refuse.
A week or two passed. A casual glance and I see the water was almost gone, there were more brown leaves than initially green leaves, there were thin slimy roots coiled up. I swore.
It was filthy and smelly. I cringed, but cleaned it up.
It was almost back to the same dirty state before I left for my vacations. I smirked and escaped, assuming just like my work, someone else would have to take care of it in my absence.
I was back, and I met the sight. The sight of the money plant glass jar. In the same state as I had left it. Obviously, no one had attended to it.
It has been two weeks I have been telling myself that after all it is just a plant. Alright, so it stinks, sometimes you do too. Come on, be a woman!
Finally, I did it. Today.
It neither was filthy, nor did it smell. There were green leaves. I drained the water, cleaned the jar, and filled it with fresh water. I cut the roots, and plucked the brown leaves. I washed the stems and arranged them in the jar. I brought it back to my desk.
Occasionally, I turn back from my screen, to look at it. It looks pretty.
So much for a new relationship. I am starting to love my money plant.
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