I figured because it was on sale that I wouldn't have to care much for it. It was probably dying anyway, I assumed. I didn't think I'd get emotionally attached.
Maybe because the plant was the only thing present when I struggled cooking or maybe because it's so cute and little, but I fell in love with that plant way faster than any average person should.
Other things that point to my not being average is that I'm not a pet person, and I don't want kids. So, naturally, I'm going to replace all those with a plant. A probably-dying plant.
Since then, I go between loving my plant and being stressed out about it. I don't know much about plant care, so when its "leaves" started turning brownish gray, I didn't know what to do. A few days ago, I repotted it in a much larger home with fresh soil. I'm hoping that it will live. So far, so good.
Today, I went to the farmer's market and was almost convinced to buy yet another plant, a viney vinca. As I struggled with my decision, I told the lady selling the vinca that plants stressed me out.
"Plants aren't supposed to stress you out," she exclaimed. "Plants are supposed to bring you joy."
It was then that I realized my plant did bring me joy. The stress I felt was because I was a new plant mom and didn't want to kill something so innocent. My baby plant had been shoved aside, sitting on a lone crate in Kroger, marked down to the lowest price possible when I found it. Now, it sits in a fancy pot with good soil and someone who cares about it. It may be silly to love a plant, but I sure do.