'til Death Do Us Part 

There's the tall spiky grassy thing, some succulents, marigolds and little mini-lupen-esque whatsamahcallits. See. No idea.

I have no idea what I'm doing. I should probably be stopped before someone gets hurt. I've killed before and I might do it again. I have the exact opposite of a green thumb. It's like some kind of "black thumb of death". It's like the Spanish Inquisition Thumb of Vengeance. Plants see my thumb coming and they recoil in fear. My thumbs are the East German Stasi of thumbs. Wait. That can't be right. I'm sure there were Stasi agents with more empathy for plants than I have. My thumbs are more like Stalingrad for plants. Here I am. Plotting. Potting. Planting. Killing. A lean, mean green-killing machine.

“Here I am. Plotting. Potting. Planting. Killing. A lean, mean green-killing machine.”

Despite all that, I thought it might be nice to have a bit of colour out on the balcony. Oh but death becomes me, I guess. It's not like I want plants to die. I'm not out on the boulevards yelling "Death to pretty flowers" or anything. It's just what happens. I don't wish to be a merchant of merry mayhem to the plant world.

I have, after all, developed a bit of a talent for catching and dispensing mice. It's been awhile and lately they've gotten brazen and bit clever (using the now cool radiators as their conduits). That's your mistake, mice. You thought the Slayer of Springhurst was on holiday. You believed the Exterminator of Edge Water Towers was on Spring break, but Death doesn't take a holiday, and the Parkdale Assassin wasn't gone. He was just watching, and waiting.

Now I've turned my attention from Fauna to Flora. Those plants think just because they're sitting in nutrient rich soil, and that I watered them once, that they are in the clear? It's doubtful. I've seen this pattern a thousand times before. I'll water you. Maybe too much. Maybe too little. I'll try to position you in the sun or in the shade. Like I said, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Isn't photosynthesis just a little water and a little sunlight? What else am I supposed to do? I'll do my best, little plants, but a day will come, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, certainly not yesterday (unless all the laws of physics are completely wrong), but one day, your green will become brown. You're succulence will become dryness and your vitality will become lifeless.

Until then, I'll enjoy your blooming buoyancy and never take a single day for granted. Thank you for your sacrifice.