Tuesday, August 2, 2016


Back when I got the job I held previously I was given a cube-warming gift by the friend who had gotten me that job. It was a beta fish. I was concerned mostly because my track record of keeping things alive isn't very good. "Don't worry," she said. "These things are nearly impossible to kill."

Fast forward two weeks, and either the beta fish learned the side stroke, or it died. Hint: it didn't learn the side stroke. (The story of the funeral is kinda funny in a horrifying way. Maybe I'll tell that at a later date.)

She felt bad for me, so she got me another cube-warming gift. This time it was a spider plant. She assured me that there wasn't a possible way for me to kill this thing. It can go without sunlight indefinitely, and you can forget to water it for a month, and it will still be alive. I was skeptical, but surprise, surprise: this thing not only survived my entire duration at that job (nearly ten years), but it also reproduced with itself so often that just about every desk at that place had a child or grandchild or great grandchild of my spider plant.

Came the day I was terminated. I packed up all of my belongings, including the spider plant. I brought it home, and much to my shock it started dying immediately. I did everything I could to keep it alive, but it's like it had a connection to that office environment and couldn't survive without it.

I went without work for about a month, and when I got hired at my current job I didn't start until a couple of weeks later.

All that remained of my spider plant was a bunch of dead brown brittle leaves. Yet . . . there at the center remained a few living green leaves. The li'l fucker still lived!

I brought it to work today, back to an office environment. I'm gonna see if I can bring it back from the brink. Wish me luck.

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