black thumb

Park residence, where plants come to die.  For real.  I cannot keep any plant alive.  I love how they look in the house, and I keep telling myself that I will take extra care of it, but without fail, it dies.  Johnny just laughs when I get a plant because he knows in a week or two it'll sit on a counter somewhere all brown and withered.

A few weeks ago, my green-thumbed-mom gave me a little plant as a house warming gift, and of course, it died.  No. Correction. I killed it. I was complaining to my mom that all my plants die and she asked me, "Well, do you water it?" Hmmm. Oops.  I always forget to water it, then overcompensate by drowning it.  I need some major gardening lessons. I'll just have to embrace my black thumb until then.

 

Oh, my poor dead plant. But I feel better when the BFF encourages me by saying, "You haven't killed John."... yet. Ha!