Plot Monkeys

In our quest to get our house ready to put on the market before Don leaves for Oregon next week (), Don and I have been on a major deep cleaning spree. We’re decluttering, consolidating, and literally cleaning the house from the ceilings down to the floors — and it’s taken us WEEKS to accomplish. Thank God we painted the inside of our house with a semi-gloss paint, because it has made such a huge difference in the cleaning process. Oh, and 409 multi-purpose cleaner has become my very favorite cleaner of choice. I think we’ve gone through two gallons of the stuff, and it cleans and lifts dirt/grime/grease like nothing else I’ve ever used. So, a big thumbs up to 409!

Anyway, during this cleaning process, I removed the many silk plants I had around the house. I don’t even want to talk about the layers of dust on the leaves of these things because it was quite embarrassing. So, I took them outside and sprayed them with . . . you guessed it . . . 409 cleaner, and the dirt/dust/grime just melted away. A quick spray with the hose and they looked sparkling clean and good as new. I love silk plants — they’re no fuss, they don’t require water or fertilizer, you don’t have to talk to them, and most importantly, they don’t DIE when they’re neglected.

This brings me around to today’s blog topic. We have one, and only one, live plant in this house, and it isn’t mine. It belongs to Don and I seriously don’t touch it. Three years ago when Don went in for gall bladder surgery, Carly sent him a beautiful plant. And over the past three years Don has cared for, and nurtured, this one plant that sits on the window sill in our kitchen where it can absorb some sun during the day. This plant has thrived and grown - - just with a few waterings a week and an occasional splash of coffee. Don carefully picks off the old dying leaves, and when it started to become this monster plant that threatened to take over our entire window sill, he had to put a stake in the pot and make sure that all the branches had something to twist around and climb up on. Don is very proud of his plant, and rightly so. It really is a pretty plant, which I admire from afar, because my thumb is black as death and I’m certain that one touch from me and it would wither and croak. I even told Don that when he goes to Oregon, he has to take the plant with him — I refuse to be responsible for keeping it alive. I can’t imagine living with the guilt if it died while he was gone — especially after he’s taken such good care of it for three years now!

So, what about you? Do you love real plants or prefer silk ones that require minimum care? Do you enjoy puttering around in a garden and plant flowers and other pretty things, or are you like me and plant something only to watch it die, no matter how hard you try and take care of it? Personally, I hate everything about outside gardening — the dirt, crawling around on your knees, pulling weeds from the planter beds, etc. However, I do admire (and envy) those that have beautiful yards with gorgeous flowers and landscaping.