Okay so for one of my band concerts, our theme was elements. We had a fire song, and earth song, a water song, and an air song. Then someone said, "what about wind?" and we're all like, "air and wind are the same thing" and she says that they're not. Then we somehow got to the point where she was saying that air and oxygen weren't the same thing either. So dumb.

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Alley Cat

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When I had to leave town for a few days, I entrusted my husband with a seemingly straightforward task: watering the flowering vine plants I’d brought indoors for the winter. Easy enough, right? Water the pots, keep the plants alive. But when I returned, every last one of them was dead. Naturally, I assumed he’d forgotten or just skipped it altogether. Mildly irritated but trying to keep my cool, I asked him about it. To my surprise—and mild disbelief—he produced actual evidence to prove he’d been watering them like clockwork.

The plants didn’t show any signs of disease, and I couldn’t figure out why they had withered so quickly. Meanwhile, the houseplants on the wall above them seemed fine—until I spotted water dripping from their planters. Those were succulents, which shouldn’t have been watered at all. He swore he hadn’t touched them, yet somehow, they were soaked.

So I asked the obvious question: “If you didn’t water the succulents, how did all that water get there?”

And that’s when the truth came out. My husband—third-generation logger, a man who grew up surrounded by plants in the forest—had faithfully watered my flowering vines, but not the pots. Oh no. He’d been watering the pots closet to the ends of the vines which happened to be on the walls above them.

As if somehow the vines were going to reach down and lap up water like a dog from the nearest pot whenever they got thirsty.

The plants died, but I gained lasting insight into the inverse relationship between the simplicity of a task and my husband’s ability to complicate it.

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Elvira394

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Done or heard ?

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Lina

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