And possibly dying? Nooo. Please don’t die.

I hover over this plant. It’s the only plant I ever talk to. I think about it way too much. It owns me. We’re in a useless, one-sided relationship and it makes me want to put both of us out of our misery and toss it out.

It’s got yellowing leaves and somewhere along the line I recall some trivia about this meaning it was over-watered. Is that true? Dammit, now I feel compelled to spend my valuable time googling the care and maintenance of this plant.

I don’t want to do that! I give you enough of my time and head space, you stupid plant! I realize that technically you are alive and possibly complex in a way we don’t understand, but cooperate if you want to live. Scientists would be falling all over themselves if they found you on Mars, but you don’t live on Mars, house plant! You live on Earth.

But you’re my money tree. And I’m superstitious. If you die, well, I don’t want to think about the consequences. Okay. I’ll do the work and google the issue. I hate you for making me do this.

Groan. How long have I been away, sunk down rabbit holes of boring and fascinating information? And frankly, I learned that I don’t think it’s me doing something wrong in our relationship. The only thing we might consider is getting some green food to help with your nutrient intake. But now what? I gotta get in my winter gear and drive to a nursery and walk through the unfamiliar aisles wondering what exactly you need? You’re asking for more time and now, money, too. Isn’t that interesting? Are you a money-sucking tree? I’ve already re-potted you twice.

I’ll give you this, I did enjoy some of the reading. Apparently, the notion that talking to plants was beneficial began in 1848 from some German professor who suggested that plants might have human-like emotions. Damn you, Gustav, you started this.

But then, fast forward to 2004 to a show called Mythbusters who conducted a cool experiment. They set up seven greenhouses and exposed the plants in each to different conditions. Negative speech, positive speech, classical music, heavy metal music, and silence. The plants in silence grew the least, those who listened to heavy metal the most. So it may be that plants enjoy vibrations and sounds. It helps them survive in windy environments. Like it steels their will and makes them put forth an effort to survive.

Stop right there, plant. We’re not going to listen to heavy metal. But I do enjoy rock….and a hearty disco beat while dusting. So this is my final offer. I’ll go out and buy you some vitamins and I’ll crank up the tunes this week. Damn, now you got me dancing. And you’re my partner. Maybe I’ll put a little rose in your pot and we’ll do the tango. Would that make you happy?

You’re a miserly vixen, houseplant. It’s time you start giving back and living up to your name. Mommy needs you. Please don’t die.

UPDATE SEVERAL MONTHS LATER: It’s dead. Dead, dead, dead. After moving it all around the house to several locations, it never got happy and continued to drop leaves, yellow, and die. God help me, I walked it to the outside trash bin and upturned the pot, letting it all tump in. Lying there in the rubbish, it mocked me triumphant one last time, but then I closed the lid, vowing to stop letting it control me.

Shhhh…. quietly now while I whisper…. Ummm, should I replace it? Can I handle another go? Do I have the proper skills and emotional capability? Anyone care to step in and advise?