Ask anyone who knows me, I kill plants. I don't mean to. It just happens. I don't really have to do anything, maybe just walk by them. My husband reassures them (all two of them) as I walk by that I'm not going to harm them and please, don't die. These were healthy, vibrant, green and growing when we moved in. Below are pics of our houseplants now.
They're not even my plants. They belong to my mother-in-law, who is a plant whisperer. She can grow a sixty foot palm tree from a piece of dust. Look what I've done to these plants, and I don't even go near them.
What's a girl to do? She gets fake flowers. They don't die, they don't need water, and when I get tired of them, I put them in the closet for a little while.
My sissy is a new convert to fake flowers. She pooh-poohed me when I started my collection but now skips happily along beside me, gathering flowers in her arms as we shop. [Can you say "little red riding hood"?] She doesn't have to buy them since she can actually grow things. The only thing I can grow is mold on the inside of my sour cream containers.