Member-only story
Your Office Needs a Plant, to Remind You to Get A Life
Because we success hunters suck at balance
I want to tell you about Larry.
He is my plant, my one and only plant that I’ve cared for in my house. Planted weeds surrounding the border of the house don’t count. Larry is the only one with the privilege of living inside.
Larry isn’t exactly doing too well. He is a peace lily, an almost indestructible house plant that survives on minimal watering and even as little fertilizing.
Yet, Larry is well and truly about to leave this earth. He has all but one leaf missing. And that one is looking rather sad.
Why? Because I’m a bad plant mother.
I’ve neglected him. I put him in a room of my house where I rarely visit, in the nook between the outside and the backyard. I don’t go near the garden much at all. If I leave the house, it’s out the front door for exercise before scuttling home to my office for work. I stay at my desk until it’s dark, and by the time I go anywhere near the spot where Larry lives, I can’t see his diminishing state.
That’s why he’s dying. I’m a workaholic, and I have no reminder that life exists outside of the computer and what I write.
