Yesterday I mused that my mother always watered her plants on Thursdays. I stared at mine for a bit, (and her adopted plants) noticing they weren’t drooping too badly. Besides, most of the green army fighting for survival happens to fall into the range of succulents. I’ve convinced myself they do better with stress, so just watering them makes them a little too reliant on me. The other plants just have to learn to accommodate the happy-go-lucky moisture schedule. This could explain the deplorable state of my mother’s fern. Well, I still haven’t lost any plants other than the ones I intentionally dispatch, so it shouldn’t give up hope.
That got me to thinking about habits and good practices and why-in-the-world did I save two months of cleaning for one day yesterday, instead of just watering plants? I was righteously exhausted last night, which in layman’s terms means, “You still won’t sleep well.”
So, I’ve got habits, just not scheduled ones. Other than the paper, puzzles and coffee, that is. Those are on a daily regimen called, “Let’s wake up.”