Day Three: Dear Houseplant

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I awoke this morning to find you slightly welted and brown around the edges.  I followed the advice on your card carefully.  I watered you every day, per the instructions.  I gave you the food that came with you when someone had so kindly gifted to you to me.  But yet, like all the other plants, you are dying, and don’t understand it.  Please don’t die on me.  It just cements my feelings as a complete and utter failure.

I can move you if you would like.  I have another room with slightly more light.  In the dining room.  There is a table in front of the window where you can sit and soak up the warm Florida light.  I promise I will continue to water you, and feed you as you need.  You can watch the fish in the fish tank swim back and forth.  It’s a completely different decorative theme in the dining room, instead of African and tropical fusion, the dining room is classic French dining.  You would enjoy it in there.  I love sitting in my dining room.  The only problem, my daughter, the dogs, and my son runs through the room like it’s a pathway to heaven.

I can also move you to my bedroom, though it’s quite dark and cool in there.  According to the card, you enjoy light and heat.  I am a vampire at night.  I like the cool, dark, and humid nights.  There is no decorative theme, only smelly gym clothes.  You would make it smell so much nicer in there.  I am rarely in the bedroom, so you would not have much company there.

If I moved you upstairs, it would be warm, and there is plenty of sunlight in the toy room, rather than the man cave.  There isn’t much in the way of tables, and you have to stand on your tippy toes to look out the window.  Even then there is not much of a view.  Additionally, we live downstairs most of the time, and we would forget about you, and you would die of loneliness and dehydration.  I heard dehydration is not the way to die, it’s painful and slow.  Please don’t die yet.

I could put you in the kitchen.  This is where everyone meets.  We eat as a family in there.  We laugh, we play games, and I cook.  The kitchen is full of life and love.  There isn’t much sunlight there, but there is warmth.  There is a nice counter top you can sit on.  You would be beautiful as a centerpiece on my dining room table, or you would look nice on my baker’s rack, next to the window.  Some days, if you so desire, you can look outside, and watch the kids swimming.  The kitchen is where I do most of my writing, and find most of my inspiration.  You would love it in the kitchen.  If I could convince you to hold on for a few more hours, I will move you into the kitchen.  Please don’t die.

Dear houseplant, please don’t die.  I know I was born with a black thumb, and if you live for a few more days, hours, or weeks, I can turn things around…

Day Four Challenge:  Write your Facebook Statuses for 2017 (oh boy that should be fun– I’ll just do one a month)…


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