Because (a) we live in Lotus Street, and (b) we have a pond, I kinda got the idea that it would be great to put some lotus plants in our pond. Little did I know how incredibly stupid lotus plants are.

Like this. Don’t plant lotuses in square-edged containers. If you do that, the roots may end up in one corner, go round and round in that corner without finding the rest of the container, and the rootbound plant will die. Solution: plant lotuses in circular containers.

Or this. Never cut off dead leaves. The stems of lotuses are hollow, and if you cut away the discoloured leaves, water will get into the stems and — how ironic is this? — the plant will drown. Solution: don’t cut the dead leaves. If you hate the look of black/brown mottled and dead biological matter, hide those leaves under healthy ones.

And then there’s the koi who love lotus tubers and roots the way I love me some porky goodness. Koi have such a hard-on for subterranean lotusy bits, that they will excavate a lotus plant and eat its roots. The result? You guessed it, the lotus plant dies. Solution: Either don’t put lotuses and koi in the same pond (too late), or “mulch” the lotus container with sharp little lava rocks to deter industrious fish.

Now, believe it or not, I did a stupid thing. I cut the dead leaves off the lotus plants. Then I decided to go and read up on how to maintain lotuses. This is not exactly the correct order of things. Can you say p-a-n-i-c? Lotus plants are not cheap, no matter where in the world you live, and I was facing three examples of terminal cases right there. You can’t get some string and tie the stems shut because the stems are not really pliable like that. What I needed was something waterproof and pliable that I could use like a paste, to close off the holes in the stems (and they’re really obvious when you’re looking at them, scant centimetres under the killing water). What I also had were still a couple of hundred boxes with great stuff in them … still unpacked.

Well, people, if you’re ever stuck in that situation, I’ve found a solution. Lipstick. Using the tip of a metal nail file as a tiny spatula, I scraped off little mounds of lipstick and pressed them into the stem, making sure the lipstick covered all the tubules. I did that two weeks ago, and the plants don’t seem to be dying on me. In fact, I’m seeing new leaves emerge every few days. And some of the fish seem to like the taste of lipstick. While I’m currently breathing a sigh of relief over saving three expensive plants from my own stupidity, I’m trying hard not to think about lipstick and koi diets. One crisis at a time.