It’s so easy to learn how to care for orchids. Just follow these simple steps:
Step One: Assume you have no idea how to keep plants alive, and thus have no idea how to care for orchids.
Let’s be real. How many herb gardens have died because of you? How much blood (chlorophyll) is on your hands? Too much. Plants aren’t for you, sweetie.
Step Two: See an orchid at the grocery store. Mention you want it. Wait for your boyfriend to bring you home one as a surprise because he’s like a bearded angel.
Those royal blue ones at Sprouts look great, if not 100% unnatural. You think they’re neat, but not for you. But you could totally go for a white or purple one. You will forget all about these orchids until you are gifted one. And that gift will give you the sort of anxiety you haven’t felt in a hot minute.
Even so, you’re excited. Your boyfriend bought you a flower!
Step Three: Memorize the orchid care tag that came with the plant. Is it that easy to care for orchids? Probably!
All you have to do is give that dang flower 2-3 ice cubes throughout the week. You set up a schedule to give this flower the ice cubes. You try not to feel guilty when the dog is jealous of the flower because the dog likes ice cubes too. The only difference is the dog tends to barf from choking on the cubes, so you don’t give them to her.
Step Four: Have a panic attack when 70% of the flowers fall off. Get really defensive when your boyfriend assumes you killed it. You may not know how to care for orchids…
You gave the flower the ice cubes! This is not your fault. The orchid is actively defying you. Maybe it’s a teen phase? How long is the two weeks you’ve owned this orchid in flower years?
Step Five: Look at your orchid and think of Georgia O’Keefe. Temporarily feel like a perv.
You will never know if you think flowers look like lady parts, or if art history classes made you think that way. It doesn’t really matter though, because you can’t look your teenage orchid daughter in the eye without thinking very vaginal thoughts.
Step Six: Develop ridiculous gardening stereotypes about Italians.
These will stem from the time you worked at a restaurant/tax shelter/drug front owned by a horrible Italian woman who had a lovely orchid at the host stand. That was pretty much the only good thing about that business. That, and the half-priced garlic chicken.
Also, Don Corleone had a great vegetable garden that he died in. Surely there’s some kind of green thumb that originated in Italy.
Step Seven: Google “how to care for orchids.” Let the anger flow through you as you realize the plant tag left a ton of shit out.
Apparently it takes a lot more than what the flower tag said. You’ve been cheated out of a quality orchid experience because some tech writer couldn’t fit enough orchid advice onto the tag they put on the flower when they sell them.
Step Eight: Are those butterfly clips from that super popular late nineties hairstyle they use to keep the orchids on the stakes?
If I were to do my hair in that style again, would it be weird?
Step Nine: Notice that your orchid sits in the window with a direct view of the garden.
That is, the garden that you are currently neglecting, except to occasionally find an errant carrot when you’re in the yard with the dog. Your thumb may be green, but you wouldn’t know. It’s so overgrown.
Step Ten: There are three flowers left on the plant. You definitely don’t know how to care for orchids.
You are the Ted Bundy of the horticultural realm. (Unless we’re talking about tomato plants, because then you’re a straight up Jeffrey Dahmer.) Be gracious when your boyfriend breaks up with you for killing the orchid he got you.
Seriously, this was a test to see if you were good enough to be the mother of his children, and you failed. Don’t bother to remind him that you’re really good with the dog and have managed to keep her alive through a lot of really weird illnesses and injuries. That won’t get you anywhere. You both know that you spoil that pooch and leave him to be the disciplinarian. This orchid was the last straw. You’re the worst.