Independence

I made a plant stand yesterday.

I received quite a number of plants after Vic passed away, and they were all over the house, making it impossible to water them efficiently. You know how I am about efficiency. So I set about finding a plant stand.

By myself, I went to the At Home store and the Flower Bin. Maybe there were good ones there, but I wasn't sure. With no Vic beside me to validate my choice, I couldn't tell whether this one was a piece of crap or that one would look good in the house. I left, dejected.

So I hit up the Internet. (Yes, I'm still capitalizing Internet. Do you have a problem with that? At least I'm not calling it the World Wide Web.) Etsy, Wayfair, a general Google search, the dreaded Amazon. I found many beautiful and expensive plant stands, but I ended up with the same problem—no one to make the choice with me.

I picked my favorites—at least 10. I opened them all in separate tabs; then I arranged them in tiles on my desktop. Over the course of at least an hour—probably longer—I narrowed it down to three. In the end, I chose the least expensive one because my favorite one was $150 more. Would I love it $150 more? I didn't think so.

It came in a box, which I propped up next to the door so that any man who entered my house would see it and say, “Oh, do you want me to put together your plant stand?”

No man did.

To be honest, it was always my intention to put the stand together myself. I am not helpless. I read the reviews—ease of assembly was mentioned many times.

But I was raised in the 1970s, when boys were raised as boys and girls were raised as girls. I had Barbies and yarn and an Easy-Bake Oven. (Side note: I loved my Easy-Bake Oven.) I did not have tools. I did not hang out in garages watching boys put things together. A screwdriver was my mother's drink of choice. So there is always a part of me that wants a man to do the manly things around my house. There's a box in the garage that has been sitting there for I don't know how long—it's not my box. There are spider webs on it, and spiders in it (I found this out by gingerly opening it.) I want to throw the box away, but I'm not going to touch it with all those spidery things on it. I have to steel my girders before I attempt that without a man.

Anyway, back to my plant stand.

I opened the box last night and laid out all the parts according to the instructions, which were surprisingly simple and clear. I methodically put things together—incorrectly, more than once—over the course of about an hour.

I placed it in its designated spot and added my plants to it. There were a couple of empty spots, so I just filled them with what I had on hand. I may change those things later. It looks lovely, and I am proud of myself.

But there is a little part of me that knows this is a step away from Vic. A good step. A necessary step. But still, a step away. And so my heart broke a little when I surveyed my handiwork.

In time, I plan on getting some of those cup holder thingies and hanging the two glass hummingbirds I received as gifts from the plant stand. These will complete my beautiful work.

Now, if only I can get a man to screw them in. 🤣