For my birthday someone always seems to be nice and think they’ll give me a flower or plant of some sort. Which is all really nice, I guess. It’s the thought that counts and all that.
The thing is… I don’t have green fingers. I have black fingers. Black fingers of DEATH! And any plant or flower that get into my house is doomed to suffer a horrible death sooner or later.
So really, one might say that it’s a horrible gift to give me. Not just for me (cause I’m quite sad when I see them wither and die), but for the poor plants. I mean, c’mon – my house is a literal HOUSE OF DEATH when it comes to flowers. I bet there are stories in the flower shops about the house of horror where no plant wants to go.
I’ve been in the process of replacing any flowers I might have (or had) with fake ones. Because those are a lot harder to kill. HAH! But every now and then some kind person decides that it’d be nice to give me a flower…
I had actually planned to take photos of my new plants/flowers with the text Doomed written underneath – but they’re already wilting a little and I felt too ashamed!
In other news, a date is set and I’m meeting “him” on Thursday. Can you spell nervous?