I’m a murderer. Vicious, vicious plant murderer.

I dread this time of year. Dread it. Anyone who has any vacation days left is hopping off on a flight to Dominican resort or is boarding the party cruise-line…. and who do they ask to “keep an eye on” their plants? ME!

I hate watering plants for people. Give me a hamster to feed, a cat to cuddle with or a dog to take out. But plants? I forget about plants. I don’t know how much water they need. I don’t know their types. I don’t know their survival requirements. I know nothing! By having to (not) water them, you turn me into a murderer. A terminator! A liquidator! Pure and simple, a killer.

My sister is the one that dumps them on me. I reluctantly agree, of course. I can take care of her daughters when they are at my place, how could I not take care of plants then? Maybe I will do better this time!

At first, the plants seem fine. I try talking to them. Sing to them. I try to make them happy. I diligently read the list on how much water they need and how often they should be watered. Next few days, I forget they are there. Because they are so quiet, I don’t notice their presence. I watch TV, I write my blogs, I go to work without a single thought regarding the plants.

Then I come home one day, and I suddenly notice almost like a trail of shedding leaves. Then, as I glance to see if there are any survivals left, only few, sad, wilting leaves are staring at me. “You did this to us!” they scream. Then I notice spots and brown patches on stems. “Please forgive me!” I cry. I give them so much water their little pot is overflowing. I don’t know what to do. I add more fertilizer. I put them in a warmer place. I blast Mozart and Vivaldi through the house. I stay up late to talk to them and make sure they will make it through the night.

By the time my sister comes back, sun-kissed and reborn from her vacation, I manage to kill half her plants. She grabs whatever plants are still half-alive and storms out- saying she will never trust me with them ever again. I pour myself a glass of wine and cheer to the plants I killed. I’m a plant murderer.

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