Dear Jenni

 Dear Jenni; 

I wish you'd told me how expensive and time intensive these house plants are.  I might have turned away the first few that you gave me if I'd known all there was to know about keeping them alive and thriving.  I certainly wouldn't have taken in more! Too late now.  

Are you there somewhere laughing at me? You are, aren't you? Telling me to 'suck it up buttercup', giving me that sassy grin, and walking away saying, "sucker!" over your shoulder.  God how  I miss your laugh.

Today I think I might have finally conquered the battle with the fungus gnats.  Ever since you talked me thru repotting some of my own plants well over a year ago, and I was stupid enough to buy the cheap soil that was pre-infested with those damn gnats, I've been fighting them off.   I did all the things you told me to do.  I bought the Neem.  I used the soapy water.  I watered from the bottom instead of the top.  I let them dry out well.  I used your mom's fertilizer recipe.  I took pictures of my wilting listless plantlings and sent them to you.  I sent you video even.  You loved it when I did that while you were working a double, it helped pass the time for you.  Nothing was working though.  You told me to hang in, that we'd figure it out.  Then you died.  You bitch.  I'm still pretty pissed off at you for doing that you know.

After you died, which still feels like yesterday, I inherited a few more of your plants, courtesy of your lovely dad and some of your plant friends when we were all together, packing up your apartment.  *sidenote* damn, you loved that apartment... it was so pretty and so full of  your beautiful soul:  your soul displayed like art with your own handmade macramé and the bajillion plants in their tiny perfect planters and the cozy furniture and the peaceful colors.  You did good kiddo.  You did good.

Anyway.  I inherited a few more of your plants Jenni, and they came with gnats.  Of course!  My gnats loved meeting yours, and they all had a kick ass party going on in my place throughout Christmas.  I even bought sticky traps and had to change them every couple of days because they were so covered by those tiny evil assholes.

Finally I dug into the interwebs and the tik toks and the instagrams and I decided to forge ahead with my own plan.  Today was the finale.  If I see a garsh-darn gnat in the next few days, or the next few weeks even, I swear to God Jenni, I will die and come find you and... well... I really don't like confrontation so I probably will just flip you off, from a safe distance of course, but so help me baby cheezits, if I see a gnat, I WILL make good on this threat!

Today I took all forty-eleven plants, which includes all the little propagations I've done (toot toot! look, I'm tooting my own horn!), and the few that I snipped from your aloe at work, and I got rid of the top two inches of gnatty soil on every single one of them, replaced it with new, fresh, UN-gnatty soil, and then covered it with a solid inch of decorator sand.  Every single one, Jenni.  Every single one. Now, its not just as easy as all that though - I had already potted a bunch of the propagations in teeny little cups so it meant totally repotting those ones all together, and I had to change out a few pots that didn't have drainage holes (duh, you didn't mention the importance of THAT!) for pots that DID have drainage holes, and I also made some little climbing poles for one plant and a few support stakes for a couple of others, and I had to replace the grow lights and reposition everything - sheesh!  Afterward, my kitchen looked like the swedish chef muppet guy had just finished making a mud pie.  Then I had to clean up.  

Damn I'm exhausted.  I'm also victorious tho kiddo, and it's the first time I've felt that way in a very long time, and I also feel a deep sense of peace which I haven't felt since you died almost 3 months ago. So thank you for that Jenni. I wish you were here to talk to about this, to ask if you felt that way too when you cared for all your plants.  Instead I'm carrying a part of you in my heart, and in my hands.  I just hope you weren't being carried in any of the gnats...

I miss you Jenni.  There is a you-sized hole at work my friend, and a you-sized hole in my heart too.