poor plants...

Not poor because I forget about watering them or they are slowly passing away. No, no. Poor plants because they have to listen to me talk to myself, read out loud, and hear phone conversations. My "living" room, which is connected to the dining room and basically the kitchen, is the where I study, write, and live. As you can see, I am truly a great decorator. 

Those plants have the good life, except for having to listen to me. One enjoys the sun so much it is growing up the wall and on a chair. Poor plants. They have become my roommates. And I like them. You know why?  They don't talk back. Poor, poor plants. 

Green upon green thumb,

BEAT