(1) Get rid of the drip pan/saucer. They don't like wet feet. (2) Plant it in some real soil. Ditch that white puffy stuff. Citrus grows in real soil that retains moisture. (3) to revive it, buy some SuperThrive and give it a couple of treatments. Then plenty of light and warmth. My calamondin is about 8 feet tall and 5 feet wide amd it does well in the sunny but cool greenhouse.

Kaz, do you know how to convert cm's to inches? Also, you mentioned liters. Isn't liters for volumn? I'm totally confused what volumn has to do with size of pot. lol I think 15 cm's equal about 6", right? If that number is correct, what is 19 cm's in inches? lol..sorry. Aesir mentioned 5-10". 5-10" is quite an increase, but considering your tree is a foot/12", if there's not too much space between rootball and inside of pot, and if you're using well-draining soil, it should do fine. Shake Calamondin to release loose foliage. Might as well toss detached leaves. If several fall, so be it. But if by chance more leaves drop, you'll know they haven't been spliinted by neighboring leaves. It's better knowing than wondering. Keep watch, but don't pamper..remember, too much TLC works against a plants health..like overwatering. Ever read threads from people who buy a plant, the plant either loses leaves or looks sad, so they add a ton of water or worse, fertilizer! plant dies, the end. Toni

Someone who I hadn't seen in a while asked how our house was coming. Big mistake.... When I finished she said I should write a book. I'm sure there are many potential books out there. Here would be the outline of ours. *Aug 06: move family of 4 w/ 2 dogs and cat into trailer on property. Teardown & rebuild expected to take 9-12 months. *Sept 07: House around 40% complete, contractor walks, closes business, thousands of dollars unpaid to subs. Contractor is a neighbor, kids at same school. :) What fun! *Sept 07-current: Bank demands seperation agreement with old contractor to get new contractor on board. Can't agree on separation agreement with former Cont. Forced to hire attorney. Attorney writes bank letter. Bank agrees to move forward until final draw at least until final draw. JOKE. Three weeks ago: Still attempting to move forward with bank. Bank requires copy of title report. Forced to pay subs with pre-liens (that weren't paid by original cont.) or bank won't move forward. Pay subs. Title sent to bank. Bank refuses to move forward because of liens. What!!!Three weeks later, finally discover liens were a mistake, another person, same name as husband but diff address and SSN. In Dec 07, call for rough plumbing/elect inspect. Inspector says, "NO WAY". 12 outstanding Inspection Correction Notices not addressed by former Cont. Late Jan 07: $1,600 later all but one item signed off by structural engineer. Engineer refusing to sign off on additional steel in foundation because former contractor covered it with concrete before it was inspected. Former contractor says it's there. 2 weeks ago: Hammer out portion of foundation to check for steel. Not enough there. Now engineer calculating exterior steel to compensate for steel not in foundation = $$$$$. Day to day living....Trailer not designed for long term living. Wet winter, discover mold last week. Clean like crazy with bleach. Tuesday returned from 3 day weekend away to discover son forgot to look for indoor/outdoor cat hiding in closet. Needless to say our trailer will never be or smell the same. Wednesday toilet cloged. Pour "emergency" solution in, finally clear 24 hrs later. Good thing family truly knows how to "camp". :) 18 months in the "box" as we so endearingly refer to the trailer, and no end in sight. The last couple chapters of our book have yet to be written. I can only hope they'll be much much less "exciting" than the first.

As a person with PTSD, I definitely appreciate the accuracy of this post's comparison. I'm one of those weirdos who actually likes decorating styles that came from the eighties or earlier. Those cringey little details that people hate? I love them. My fondest dream is to someday own an ugly house that was built between the 60s and 70s and looks like it, burnt orange, harvest gold, and all. I often visualize the confused looks on my neighbors' faces when they see a house that looks like the 70s threw up all over it, hear a random mix of big band, classic rock, and nu metal coming through the windows, and realize their neighbors are - GASP! - Millenials! These daydreams are how I cope with living in an apartment full of beige, beige, and more frickin' beige. That said, even I've got my limits: Carpet in the kitchen. My grandmother (God rest her soul) had her kitchen floor covered in some sort of flat indoor-outdoor carpet in geometric patterns of green, gold, and black...or, at least, I remember the shapes being green, gold and black. It was very old carpet, very rarely vacuumed, and always dirty. Sure, that's bad enough, but you know where the trauma came from? Well, Gran grew up in the South during the Great Depression and came from a dirt-poor family. You never got caught wasting anything around her; she even washed and saved disposable straws for future uses. During one visit with her, I was helping her prepare a modest lunch. (Green beans with butter and garlic, a small burger patty on white bread, and white rice with butter and salt. Yes, heart attacks run in the family.) I turned away for a moment, can't recall why, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the butter fall off the knife halfway to the green beans. It landed right on that nasty, ancient, smelly carpet...but you don't waste food. Gran picked it up with her bare hands, looked it over, and brushed something off. Maybe it was gravel, maybe it was a hair, or even a toenail clipping - all were entirely possible in that house. And - AND! - she tossed it right on the green beans and stirred it in like it was completely normal. I suddenly "got a stomach ache" and went home hungry; after my mother heard the story, she started sending money for us to get takeout so Gran didn't poison me. To this day, the idea of carpet in the kitchen makes me want to sit in a corner, rock, and whimper. Spherical knobs on cabinets. Like stick a marble on a bolt and it's a knob shape. This one's simpler. When I was in fifth grade, my parents bought a fixer-upper dating back to the twenties. It's a beautiful house but as the kid (read "unpaid manual labor assistant") I got a good close look at all the horrors from the renovation. Over twenty years later, I can still recall the obnoxious shiny round 'clown nose red' knobs on the kitchen cabinets...which, by the way, matched the 60s era strawberries-on-butter-yellow wallpaper...so Bozo nose knobs and butter color on the walls, double-whammy. The horror! Wallpaper in general. Sure, I don't mind having paper on the walls, but if there's any possible way, I'm leaving that wallpaper up until I die. I can't stand the wallpaper? I'd almost rather not consider the house. This, too, dates back to that 20s era house. Previous owners, instead of removing the paper and starting over, put layer upon layer of wallpaper and paint on the walls...and it took my parents three rooms of countless layers of painted paper to decide to leave it in place and paint over it. In the half-bath alone, we found about a dozen layers of wallpaper and painted wallpaper dating back to the 20s...and one of those papers had simplistic designs of women in bathtubs, all with beady eyes fixed on the room. I still feel watched anytime I use that bathroom. Lastly, this one is actually literally a PTSD thing. Buildings without a safe room, basement, windowless interior room, external shelter, or other ideal place to take shelter during a tornado. To simplify a too-complicated explanation, in 2011 the apartment building I lived in was in the direct path of an EF-5 tornado and I was home when it hit. The building had the latest in hyper-paranoid fire safety but it had no posted plan for a tornado in the vicinity. My neighbors and I wound up sheltering in the corner of the hallway just yards from several big glass windows and four all-glass doors. Needless to say it wasn't pretty, and most of the buildings in that neighborhood were either flattened or nearly so. I won't go into detail beyond this: our building was brick, and there was non-brick construction obliterated for about half a mile in each direction of us. None of my neighbors were injured or killed. We were so far beyond lucky it's dumbfounding. Ever since then, my first response on entering a new place or checking out a house is "where will we go when s**t hits the fan?" Not if...when. The tornado in 2011 was only the second or third in my city's history; we've had two more smaller tornadic events since 'the big one' and I've lost count of how many "once in a decade/lifetime/generation/millennium" storms have happened since. Missouri isn't known for calm weather, after all. There was such rampant PTSD around here from the tornado (and so many people who ignored the sirens) the city upgraded to new models that test silently. People are finally building safe rooms into most new structures, but it shouldn't have taken that level of destruction. Put your mark on your place - include all the little details you love and ban those you hate - but for the love of Mike, when you're building, buying, or remodeling, seriously ask yourself where you'll go and what you'll do if your region's form of natural disaster happens, and consider whether or not your plans will keep you and your loved ones safe. That got heavy. Here are my cats modeling the latest styles in boxes and bags to lighten the mood. Goldie's sitting in three nested boxes. Those proud cheeks! Skidd just wanted to remind me that he's the present.