Sometimes the things that bring us the most comfort are not exciting or extraordinary. Sometimes joy is simply a freshly made bed, clean towels, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing one small corner of life feels put together.

My friends call me "the plant killer," and honestly, they've earned the right. After years of unintentionally sending houseplants to an early grave, I swore I'd never buy another one. But sometimes the things we love are worth trying again, even if failure is still a possibility.