My sister-in-law asked me to babysit her plants and rewarded me with screaming

My sister-in-law Bridget asked me to help with her plants while she was traveling. Apparently, they're some kind of rare, high-maintenance specimens that need almost daily attention. And she's constantly on the go – work trips, vacations, you name it.

Here's the thing: I have a black thumb. Truly. I've killed succulents. But I'm a nice person, so I drove to her apartment every other day, watered, fertilized, misted, and wiped down leaves like some kind of unpaid botanical nurse.

And what did I get for my trouble? Not a thank-you card. Not even a text with a heart emoji. I got screamed at.

A little backstory

Bridget used to live in Arizona with her ex-husband. When that marriage went south, she packed up her belongings – including her precious plant collection – and moved back to our city in Ohio.

She had a place to come back to, at least. My mother-in-law had given each of her kids a condo years ago. Smart woman, planning ahead like that. Bridget's place had been rented out for years, so before she could move in, it needed some serious freshening up.

We all pitched in. My mother-in-law, Bridget, and I spent a weekend painting walls and hanging new curtains. My husband Mike and his dad rewired half the place because – you guessed it – Bridget's special plants needed special grow lights with special settings.

I didn't really know Bridget before all this. I'd met her at our wedding six years ago, and she'd visited maybe twice since then. So I was forming my first real impressions of her during the renovation.

She seemed... fine? A little obsessive about her plants, sure, but everyone has their quirks. I collect vintage cookbooks I never use. Who am I to judge?

Life goes on

After the condo was done, we had a little housewarming party, and then everyone went back to their own lives. Bridget didn't bother us with requests or demands. Whatever I knew about her life came through Mike. He'd mention she found a job, reconnected with old friends, seemed happy.

Good for her, honestly.

From what I could see on Facebook, the woman never sat still. Always posting photos from weekend getaways, work conferences in different cities, hiking trips with friends. She had a fuller social calendar than a Kardashian.

I didn't think much about it. Her life, her business.

Then came the favor

Everything changed when my mother-in-law needed surgery. Nothing too scary – a planned knee replacement – but she'd be in the hospital for a few weeks, then recovering at home.

That's when Bridget called me.

Apparently, my mother-in-law had been the plant-sitter all along, driving over to Bridget's place whenever she traveled. But now Mom was out of commission, and Bridget had a week-long vacation to Cancun already booked.

"Can you take care of my plants? Please? Just for a week?"

I tried to warn her. "Bridget, I kill everything. I once managed to kill an air plant. Do you understand? A plant that literally survives on AIR."

She laughed it off. "Don't worry! I'll write you the most detailed instructions ever. You won't have to think at all, just follow the steps."

I suggested Mike or her dad could do it. They can read instructions too, right?

"Men don't read instructions until something's already broken," she said.

Against my better judgment, I agreed.

The instructions from hell

She left me three pages of handwritten notes in tiny, cramped writing. Every plant had its own schedule. This one gets misted at exactly 7 AM. That one needs the grow light on setting three for four hours, then setting one for two hours. This one drinks from the bottom. That one needs distilled water only – tap water will KILL IT IMMEDIATELY (yes, she underlined it three times).

And honestly? The plants themselves were nothing special to look at. Just a bunch of green leaves in fancy pots. But what do I know? I'm the woman who killed an air plant.

Here's what really got me: Bridget's condo was across town. With traffic, it took me an hour each way. Then another hour going through all the instructions, double-checking everything, making sure I didn't accidentally commit plant murder.

Three hours of my day. Every other day. For a week.

But I did it. I followed every instruction to the letter. And you know what? The plants looked exactly the same when she got back. Maybe even a little perkier. I was proud of myself.

The phone call

When my phone rang and I saw Bridget's name, I smiled. Finally, some appreciation!

Ha.

She started screaming before I could even say hello. The plants were RUINED. I had DESTROYED them. How could I be so CARELESS and INCOMPETENT? Did I even READ the instructions? These plants were IRREPLACEABLE!

I couldn't get a word in. She just kept going, her voice getting higher and more hysterical, until finally she hung up on me.

I stood there in my kitchen, phone in hand, completely stunned.

I didn't call her back. What was I supposed to say? I'd done everything right. The plants were fine when I left. If something happened after, that wasn't on me.

I told Mike, he shrugged in that helpless way husbands do when family drama erupts, and life went on. Bridget and I just... stopped talking. I let Mike handle all the birthday texts and holiday greetings. I was done.

And then she called again

Six months of blessed silence. Then last week, my phone rang.

"Hey! So I have a work trip coming up, and I was wondering if you could check on my plants?"

Just like that. Casual as anything. Like she hadn't verbally assaulted me over her precious greenery.

No apology. No "Hey, sorry I screamed at you that one time." No acknowledgment whatsoever that anything had happened.

Apparently, my mother-in-law refused to go out because of the icy sidewalks – doctor's orders after her surgery, no falling allowed. So Bridget "remembered" me.

I almost laughed.

"No," I said.

"What? But I really need—"

"No. Find someone else. Hire a plant-sitter. Take them with you. I don't care. But I'm not doing it."

She sputtered something about family helping family, but I just said goodbye and hung up.

What I learned

Some people will take your help, blame you for things that aren't your fault, and then expect you to help again like nothing happened. Those people don't deserve your time.

My peace of mind is worth more than any plant – rare, exotic, or otherwise. I learned that lesson once, and I'm not learning it again.

Bridget can figure out her own botanical emergencies. Maybe she can train the plants to take care of themselves. They're special enough for everything else, apparently.