I saved lives today. I finally rescued those poor pathetic piles of brown leaves from their cello-pack prison. Of course they were gorgeous flowering plants when I purchased from the garden store weeks ago...until they sat on my front steps...in the sun.

Why do I kill things? It's not just outside flora either. I kill indoor plants, too. Go ahead. Gift me with a plant and see what happens to it. I still have 2 of the plants we received for housewarming gifts 5 years ago. They have about 5 leaves between them. Those 5 leaves symbolize a triumph for me. Other, lesser plants haven't survived me nearly as long. It's not that I do it on purpose, of course. And it has nothing to do with my feelings towards the giver. It just happens.

I always have such good intentions. I have visions of this gorgeous yard, overflowing with flowers. All the passers-by would slow down and ooh and ahh. In reality, our yard is the one all the neighbors shun. I feel their accusing stares everytime I get in my car to leave as they toil away on their botanical creations. True, our yard DOES resemble a bad episode of Sanford & Son, but must their hatred be so obvious?

Again, my intentions are good. It's just that circumstances beyond my control always seem to thwart my efforts. Take today as a typical example. I came home from class full of purpose. TODAY I would work in the yard. Clean out that bed full of weeds that is so glaringly placed in front of the house, plant the remnamts of the flowers that were dying on the front steps, etc. Yessir! Today was IT! It's Friday, so I can put my homework off until later in the weekend (not that I don't put it off all the time anyway). It's overcast and not too hot. Perfect! SO I managed to get the plants in some dirt and what happens? Rain. See??? It's not my fault. It's fate. We are destined to live on a bad 70's sitcom set again this summer.

At least I haven't killed the kids yet. That's got to count for something.

Cat