You all know Clara, so I can skip the introductions and go straight to my problem: she hasn’t flowered since I got her.
I know, right? So frustrating! Here I am, keeping a damned orchid alive, and she can’t even bring herself to toss me a couple of blooms as a kind gesture?
Anyway, I did some reading online (there are more sites dedicated to keeping orchids happy than there are on parenting, if that tells you anything) and found some suggestions that she needs to be cold at night in order to bloom again. Easily arranged, said I, and off she went to the world’s teeniest powder room overnight. It’s so small you can wash your hands while sitting on the toilet, yet there’s a vent in there so it’s the warmest room all winter and chilly in the summer.
Spoiler: it did not work, and now I’ve got an unhappy orchid who needs to be nursed back to health. And we only tried it for one week! Damned contrary plant.
But the real point of this post is not what’s wrong with Clara—although if any of you can shed some light I will buy you dinner and the hooker of your choice—it’s what’s wrong with me. Because the week of putting Clara to bed in the cold proved just how much I don’t get plants.
HIM: (pointing at empty spot on my desk) Do you want Clara back?
HIM: (starts off toward powder room)
ME: (claps twice, calls out) Clara!
OFFSPRING: (looks up from laundry)
HIM: (to Offspring) Just… keep doing what you’re doing. Mom just called her plant.
HIM: (places Clara on desk) Did you seriously think—
ME: (laughing) I don’t know! There’s something wrong with me.
HIM: This is why you have pets.
ME: I know!
HIM: Plants can’t come when you call.
ME: And the door was closed, so she couldn’t get out!
HIM: … Yes. You have correctly identified the problem.
OFFSPRING: Are you okay?
ME: Clearly not!