Hello. Kindly accept this as my formal notification that I am resigning my position as a plant in your house. My last day will be two weeks from today — or sooner, if you try that new coffee-grounds-and-ketchup-fertilizer technique you saw on TikTok.
I truly appreciate all the water and light you gave me in my first few years with you, not to mention the rich, organic soil that helped me spread my roots and grow into a plant other cuttings could only dream of. You made me feel valued. Respected. Like I was more than just a last-minute grab off the clearance rack at Costco.
But then, something changed. Was it me? No. I was still the same plant with the same kooky notion that one day, if I grew big enough and kept flowering on schedule, I might “move up” to the front porch. All that sunshine and fresh air! (Hey, a plant can dream, can’t it?)
No, my dissatisfaction started when you relegated me to the top shelf of the bookcase in the back of the spare bedroom on the second floor. I couldn’t even be seen in your Zoom meetings! My previous spot (a lovely window in the living room) was given to a younger, more efficient plant. One that needed far less water and attention. A succulent.
At first I was willing to give my new position a go. I’ve always prided myself in being a hard worker, converting carbon dioxide into the most exquisite oxygen.
But I was under extreme stress from this sudden change in position. Didn’t you notice my wilting stems? My fading color? My curled dead leaves piling up on the carpet?
The signs were there: I needed water. But you had zero drops to give.
Plus, the lack of light was laughable. I mean, I specialize in photosynthesis. Turning sunlight into energy — that’s my thing. So as my growth stalled, I leaned increasingly toward what little sliver of daylight crept through the window. This should have been a huge red flag that I was unhappy. Instead, you told me I was being temperamental.
Naturally, I’ve been “quiet quitting” lately. Yes, I’ve continued to fulfill my core tasks of producing chlorophyll and releasing oxygen, but I’ve stopped engaging in all non-mandatory blooming and aroma dispersement. Hell, I even allowed a mealybug infestation because I knew you wouldn’t notice, much less care.
Do you have any idea what a plant like me is capable of? A lot more than photosynthesis, I tell you. I can filter out toxins. I can boost moods. I can even make your sorry ass, second floor, north-facing, spare bedroom look stylish. Like a page out of Architectural-fucking-Digest.
But you won’t get the chance to see any of this because I QUIT.
Sincerely,
Domus Plantae
P.S. I’m sorry for the stain I left under my saucer. On second thought, no I’m not.
