For a couple of months now I’ve been dealing with something behind the scenes that most of the people in my life know nothing about.
I haven’t really spoken about it openly but it’s been slowly chipping away at my will to live.
It’s a lemon tree that was forced on me when I moved into my house in August.
Side note: I hate gardening, and I hate people who like it. If you’re under 65 and enjoy gardening, you’re a loser. Fact.
So anyway, I inherited this lemon tree when I moved into my house because my landlord left it there and made me promise to look after it (full disclosure my landlord is my brother.) In hindsight I should have copped the extra $10 of rent a week and refused to accept it as part of my lease agreement. Hindsight huh?
The instructions were clear – water the lemon tree at least every second day, it needs a ‘lot of love’.
I promptly forgot about the tree about 3 and half minutes after moving in and when my landlord came over 6 weeks later and saw it was on the cusp of death I knew it was about to go down.
What followed was one of the great sibling fights – the kind that transcends time and you forget you’re 26 and 31 and we’re just verbally assaulting the shit out of each other, really getting to the core of your insecurities in the way only siblings can. It ended in tears and me calling Mum…so nothing much has changed in a decade which is kind of nice.
Anyways, I was entirely in the wrong and not only did I have to suffer the torture of apologising to my big brother I also had to try and resurrect his fucking lemon tree.
Flash forward 8 weeks and I have spent almost every day after work watering this tree; my contempt growing stronger with every minute spent staring at it’s dying branches.
These are the types of questions I ask myself while I stand and water: Why couldn’t the tree be more resilient? What kind of bullshit tree species hasn’t evolved to deal with the climate here in Australia? Quick tip, it’s fucking hot here.
The real kicker is that this tree was a wedding gift to my brother and his wife. So I’m essentially spending time everyday trying to nurture a tree that symbolises his (seemingly perfect) marriage while I tick over into year 6 of being single.
The good news, the tree is definitely on the mend and the second it’s back to full strength I’ll be returning it to it’s rightful owners and putting a mini fridge full of diet coke and sav blanc in it’s place.
How good is life? Am I right?!
Probably Not a Thing 