I’m a killer.


In my house there live three plants. Three actual, non-plastic plants that I was somehow conned into purchasing as opposed to my strict plastic-greens-only policy up to that point. Because people, much like with babies, always feel like it’s their destiny to convince you to bring things into a house that require care. Whether it’s puppies, or kittens of babies or ‘green babies’ as all those insane plant-mamas call them, the general populace seems to agree that in order to be human, we need to prove this by taking care of other entities that are alive.

And I. Can’t.

These are the first plants I have owned in the past few years (save from some cacti that just…won’t…die (no matter of the neglect I put them through)). And these poor plants, they are miserable. I just know they are. I don’t water them enough, or I…

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