I half-jokingly said that I bought my fern to replace human affection, because it's sort of true. I hate the feeling of being the only thing alive in my otherwise sterile bedroom, and since I'm not exactly bringing in boatloads of overnight guests, I needed something similarly lively and potentially disposable. So I bought a fern.
Unfortunately, after about a week, I noticed that a couple of the fronds seemed really dry, and then they started to yellow and curl, and then they started to fall off. I emailed my grandma in a panic, and she suggested that ferns do best in the shade and I might have killed it by putting it on my windowsill in direct sunlight. Oops. So I ditched the pot in my bathroom so that it wouldn't leave a mess as it withered and died all over the place, and decided not to press my luck with a replacement for the last couple of weeks of the term. (I promise that I'm more attentive to people. I don't let them expire in a corner and sometimes, I'll even make them eggs.)
And then today, I got out of the shower and noticed that my fern is totally thriving in the dark corner of my bathroom, and looks awesome. It's not exactly where I would have put a plant if it were my choice, but everyone who sees my bathroom next to my tiny bedroom comments on how big it is, which sucks because I can't really decorate it or use it because it's my bathroom, not a surrogate lounge. Apparently, the answer is a fern. Who knew?
1 comment:
Where are my eggs.
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