I have lots of plants in my office. Eight to be exact. One pot of ivy, one pot of lilies that never bloom, an African violet that also rarely blooms. A chunk of bamboo that my bro and sisinlaw brought back from Mallorca, two pointsettias, and two generic plant things. I don’t even know what they are, but damned if they aren’t all growing like crazy. What’s my secret? I water them all 3 times a week until their pots are full. That’s all I do.
Well, the biggest plant in the office is tricky because it needs lots of water, but the overflow thingy at the bottom is really shallow. So sometimes the water runs out of that onto the table I have in the corner. About 2 months ago, I had a BIG overflow, and half of the table was covered with water. I soaked it up with paper towels, but the next day a huge brown spot had dried on the table.
I kept meaning to clean it up, but I would put it off, as it was low on my list of priorities.
Well, the cleaning lady, F, just came in, and she noticed the spot on the table. She started cleaning the spot! Normally, all she does is collect the trash, and she vacuums my office once a week. That’s the arrangement. I ask her how things are in broken Spanish, and she tells me in broken English. I know she’s Costa Rican, and I know she likes to dance, and I know she works 2 full time jobs all week long. And I know that mess was mine to clean up.
I tried to resist and tell her that I would do it, but she just shook her head, and complimented me on how well I took care of the plants. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here like an ass behind the computer, reading a fucking blog.
She’s working, and I’m not. I guess I would feel worse if I didn’t see her sleeping in the conference room every day, so I guess we’re both even.
