I just realized I always have a dead plant in the house, in addition to my two (2) live plants. I like to think that it keeps the others alive, out of fear of my neglect or jealousy for my attention. One plant was a housewarming gift from my mother (the grandmother of the plants) and the other from my grandmother (the great grandmother of the plants). The dead plant is an annual my ex keeps buying for me and wondering why it expires every fall. (There's allegory here.)
this is just... tiny and horrific and perfect, thank you.
I thought that having all my plants in a weird suspension between life and death was a special skill of mine, but look! We could build a community around it.
It makes me sad to think of you coming home to just plants, though. This is why I'm always too afraid to only have one pet; life is too fragile and houses are too big.
*now leaving the office to kill all my houseplants with fire*
Oh, man, I'm also really trying with my plants, and I've got four that are all in varying stages of death and I feel outsized anxiety about them.
I am... maybe imagining these as horror-movie plant versions of Mary, Colin and Dickon from The Secret Garden, for no reason I can discern, but it kind of works?