Why a baby tomato?

My header is, for the moment, a very small green unripe tomato. It’s thriving, in the picture. I took that picture right before I murdered it in a slow and painful manner.

I was doing fine with it. I am not good at follow-through. If I don’t make a serious effort to make a habit of something, and if that habit is not accessible to me, I don’t do it. For instance, to do the litterbox daily, I had to have the litterbox in one spot (the cats picked it, so naturally it’s right next to my front door at the bottom of the steps, I live on the second floor), the broom right next to it, the scooper right next to it, the extra litter on the step right above it (the first step of the staircase), and a big stack of unused Wal Mart bags I stole from the self-checkout line one day while I was buying sour cream. In order to make that tomato live, I had to go through a door that has a lock up out of my reach. I had to climb up on a tiny kid chair to reach it, and eventually, the chair broke because I am around 250 lbs and the chair was made of thin plastic.

Now, I found a solution. Edwin has a little Batman toy that’s a motorcyle of some kind? It has a claw on the front of it. I used it to grab the lock and slide it on down. Here, look:


But the thing is…it was weeks before I found that solution. In the meantime, I kept jumping to get out, but I’d forget to do it every day because I didn’t have the energy to keep jumping, and so I’d just…let it slip my mind. But it was alive…for a while. Then, a bird or something fucking ate it. Not all of it. Just a bunch of pecks. Little stab holes in the side of the tomato that were turning brown.

I lost all motivation. I killed the tiny tomato. It turned red, and then the leaves turned brown and shriveled up and died, and the tomato got more brown spots, and then…I stopped looking at it. My husband pesters me about it in a guilt-shaming kind of way, “When’s the last time you watered your tomato plant?” And I shouldn’t have let it die, because it was a gift from a friend, but this is what I do.

You guessed it, the tomato is a metaphor. I do this. I get into something, and then it goes well for a while, and then I reach a snag, and then I start forgetting about it, and then I stop, and everything falls apart. With everything except living beings, actually; I hold onto those (people, cats, my marriage, my son) like I am dying, because I have a fear of abandonment. But that’s another topic.

I’m afraid I’ll give up. I’m also afraid I’ll give up on this blog, because it’s shiny and new now but I have a hard time with longevity. I’m going to do my best, hopefully you’ll stick with me. So the tomato is a reminder. I had something shiny and new. I could’ve had something shiny and useful. But I fucked up. I’m holding myself accountable. I want to express myself here. And I’m going to do it. Probably.

Here’s hoping no birds peck my blog.


One thought on “Why a baby tomato?

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