Today I threw away the PLANT OF GUILT. Or, more accurately, the poor, pathetic, miserable remains of what used to be the PLANT OF GUILT.
This is the plant that I inherited from someone, who inherited it from someone (who I think got it from a funeral--maybe?). It came to each of the previous owners with a full load of guilt, and (as such things always do) the guilt only increased as it got passed along. It was in a pot fully two feet across, and prior to my "watchful care", quite huge (but ugly).
It has atrophied more and more each year, growing progressively smaller and weaker, but this last year, since SmallGirl has decided she LOVES to cut up plants, has really been its "coup de grace", and yesterday (which was our second snow day in a row--no school = lots for boredom and time for creative mischief!) she started pulling the now leafless stalks out by the roots.
I pondered all available options (first aid, smaller pot, better location) and decided the dumpster was the way to go. The pot was broken and faded. The dirt has been added to my front flower bed. I thought I would feel more guilt, but mostly I just feel relieved.