The Demise of the Foyer Ficus

The Demise of the Foyer Ficus

The Demise of the Foyer Ficus


Have you ever glanced at something in your home and thought, “Good Lord! How could I not have seen how criminally wrong that is for years on end?”

I did just that a few hours ago.

I wouldn’t recommend it.

I was walking down the stairs, and happened to glance at the crown of a fake ficus plant that hangs out in the corner of our foyer as it was being gently backlit by the early morning sun.

Suddenly, I gasped and cringed simultaneously. (Gringed? Crasped?)

The entire top third of it was so thickly cloaked in dust that it seemed as if Spanish moss had taken root. Upon closer inspection, I also noticed a single, faux trunk pole sticking out of the top of the plant by at least a foot, as proudly as can be, with nary a leaf in sight. . . dusty or otherwise. It had no idea how unseemly it was. Truthfully, though, it looked like the mast of the Santa Maria playing hide and seek in a fake ficus. And don’t even get me started on the braided trunk design wrapped with spiraling vines that the 90’s must so desperately have wanted back.

My thoughts were whirling. “Why have I passed this 8-foot growth for years on end and never ever thought to dust it? Is that weird? Do people really put ‘Dust Tree’ on their cleaning ‘To Do’ list? How many visitors have left our house wishing I would, once and for all, ‘Dust Tree?’

Should I vacuum it, or hose it down, or maybe set it out in a windstorm? Might it potentially blow into the neighbor’s yard, and once they discovered it, could I make the ‘Finders/Keepers’ adage stick? In court? And who in blazes stuck that clunky trunk smack dab in the middle of this shrub? But most importantly, how can I remove said offensive tree from my sight ASAP without leaving a trail of Spanish moss dust bunnies?”

Fueled by embarrassed outrage, I tipped and rolled the hairy beast to the basement door for burly son #1 to haul down the stairs and into the recesses of the storage room upon his return from school.

That would serve it right. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Yes, it did leave a dust bunny trail, which I promptly and thoroughly vacuumed up to destroy the accumulated evidence of years of less-than-stellar housekeeping.

Hello irony.

From now on, I’m keeping my eyes focused front and center.

I’ve learned my lesson.



Written by Becky


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About Me:

Hi! My name is Becky. I’m a mom, a wife, a friend, a writer, and a compulsive thinker. Don't invite me to a spa or to shop the day away, but rather, make me laugh, engage me in interesting conversation, play a game with me, or give me a cappuccino and homemade vanilla bean flan and I’m yours ‘til the cows come home.

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