In other words, I am very bad at plants.
You think that this would be the last of my plant stories, given that the African violet is now safely at home and no longer under my watch. But then my friend decided to get me a cactus for Christmas.
|Meet Barbossa the Cactus. I water him on Sundays.|
In case you're plant-challenged like me: a cactus, in terms of plant care, is a step down from an African violet. Translation: I can't water plants unless they basically don't even require water.
But that's not all. My mother, who apparently has even less faith in me than that, also bought me a cactus.
But not just any cactus.
A fake cactus.
Let me repeat that one for you: My mother. Bought me. A fake cactus. Because I can't even take care of a dehydrated little bundle of desert leaves*.
Yup. I'm bad at plants.
Contrary to that, though, Barbossa the real cactus is doing very well in my dorm room! (And so is his fake little companion, Jack the undead cactus.) But I thought I'd share this latest turn of events in my plant life before anything goes wrong. The end.
*Not in a bad way, though. I actually thought the fake cactus was the funniest thing ever and my mom is awesome for purchasing and gifting said plant. Plus, Jack is super cute.