Potting Soil

Plants in office are, one, a spider plant (which once, Libby, rather nastily, said she mistook a monkey plant because of all of the brown fronds) and two, a potted palm. Both have seen better days, but not under my watch -- recieved plants as part of inheritance from departing associate Chair of dance department who got new job in California. Was told that plants all very hardy and easy to take care of. This did not prevent eight of originial ten from promply dropping all leaves, turning yellow, or, in one very unpleasant instance, becoming site of very vigorous mold colony. So, looking on bright side, two plants, in a way, affirming of the miracle of Life, but nevertheless often extremely guilt inducing. Spider plant suffering from plant mange and potted palm droopy, leaning to one side, and root poking out of bottom of hideous mauve plastic pot. When the Contessa hired, plants newly arrived and already starting to die. The Contessa gave one look at plants and said that she thought they needed to be repotted. She would bring potting soil. Felt instantly that self and plants in very good hands. Several weeks later catch her cheefully pouring Coke onto spider plant. Said she'd heard that coffee was good for plants so why not Coke. Unable to say why but feel certain that not good at all. Several times a week would look over at the Contessa and say in urgent tones that we Have Got to Do Something about those plants. Sloth and forgetfulness set in immeidately until next guilt induced pronouncement arrived a couple of days later. Thus, extremely shocking when the Contessa shows up at work this morning with bag of potting soil, two new terra cotta pots, pretty blue dishes from Pearl River to place under pots. The contessa pale and looks in shock too. We get to work. At end of very short period, plants in new homes, watered, and looking extremely respectable.