My wife, who is in charge of plants in our house, hates it. I didn't even rate it when it had the flowers; the red wasn't a nice red. Bugs never go anywhere near it as they don't like it either. Still, my wife decided to keep it to give it a chance, so here it is.
Other than the concession of putting it in sunlight, it receives no attention. It's never watered. The only reason it's still alive is because it's near the kettle. You may have noticed that the photo looks misty: this is because I took it through steam as the kettle boiled. I think some of the moisture that fills the air must get onto the plant's leaves and stop it from drying up. The dead parts of the leaves may be the result of someone's not lining up the kettle the way I do it, so subjecting the foliage to scalding jets of water vapour at 100°C.
Maybe, if it survives the winter, we'll put it out in the garden and let it roam free.
That wasn't intended as a metaphor for my own situation, but thinking about it, it does seem disturbingly accurate.