willhines.net

I’m watering plants for my neighbor. Every other day, I walk down a flight and pour water over her collection of about 12 plants, which she gathered together on her kitchen table so they’d be easily accessible. During this time, my own plant has died. A metaphor for my future parenting, perhaps? I wish my brain could see the world as metaphors for future success, but what sort of conclusions would YOU draw from such a thing?

Also, her apartment is spartanly decorated — almost nothing in there, which lets white light pour through the windows, dressing the place up smartly. In short, it looks much better in there then it does in my dark home, cluttered with piles of graphic novels and blank CDs. So next week I think I’m going to try and throw out half of my belongings.