The Gardenia

I decide to fry an egg.

I put butter in the pan and I’m standing by the sink with nothing to do because I already made toast and coffee. I look out the window and notice that one of my two potted gardenias is leaning to the side. I form a happy mental picture of the two plants upright and look over at the pan. It’s a slow electric stove top and the butter has only just started to melt. 

‘I can do this,’ I tell myself. ‘I've got time.’

I make my way around through the laundry and outback to the gardenia. I quickly force the tilted stem back upright with my right hand and use my left to scoop soil and reinforce the plant. It is leaning a little less but is still crooked so I straighten it again and push more soil in place. I push and I pat and I push. Then I see it. Fresh cat shit. My left hand is covered in it. 

Disgusted, I let go. The plant tilts again. More determined than ever, I push the plant back upright and push the mucilage of soil and cat shit to barricade the plant. It works.

I retreat back to the kitchen with my hands out in front like a zombie. I remember the pan. The butter has reduced to smoking dark oil. I stop at the sink and wash my hands thoroughly then tip the contents of the pan down the sink. I look out the window. The plant is still leaning.

A little less though.