It kind of amazes me how fast we go through Tillandsias. I mean, I can see why people would be interested, in theory, and WCW loves them, but honestly, WCW's tastes are not what you'd call mainstream, so the fact that regular customers like them too kind of surprises me.
Of course, I wonder about the long-term survival rate of the plants we sell. Maybe we sell so many because the same five rabidly devoted people keep killing theirs over and over, not because they have broad appeal. I.e. that they're cult plants, like the way that The Cure is a cult band or "Firefly" is a cult TV show.
I'm finding it hard to have a reaction to that thought.
Anyway. So we have another true-flowers moment:
Meanwhile, my cold is sort of dissipating: we're now at the stuffed-head, my-ears-crackle-when-I-swallow phase. This beats the pants off the it-burns-when-I-breathe, my-whole-face-is-dry-and-hot phase. I can even do similes again, as you all witnessed above with the cult-plant paragraph.
Though it may be a few days before they're good similes.
Also, a side-note: I am shamed to admit that the brown anole from the post a few days ago has escaped, and is now somewhere in the apartment. I'm even more shamed to admit that this was totally my fault, and it was in fact so blindingly stupid that I'm not going to tell you how it happened, because if I tell you, you will point and mock me.
I'm not sure what happens now. So far, there have been no sightings, and this was long enough ago that she could be, literally, anywhere in the apartment. The situation is something like living in a haunted house, in that I'm now expecting that, you know, I'll step groggily into the shower some morning and ANOLE! Or I'll slide under the covers on the bed and ANOLE! Or I'll open the door on the microwave and Though obviously she's not going to show up until after I've forgotten that I'm supposed to be looking for her.
But then, maybe it's more like living with a benevolent ancestor of some sort. I mean, if she's doing anything, she's got to be eating bugs for me, right? And I wouldn't necessarily ever see her doing it? Sort of quietly guiding the plants toward health and prosperity behind the scenes?
I don't know. I told you it'd be a while before the similes worked again. Meanwhile, I am shamed and congested.