Planted flowers

I know what you are thinking. That I’m going to wax poetic about the coming of spring and how I absolutely love to garden and watch the efforts of my labor bloom into a colorful little space on earth. Nope. I don’t like to get dirty. Gardening involves dirt, strike one. I don’t like sitting in grass because it makes you get itchy. You have to sit somewhere while you’re digging in the dirt, strike two. I like instant gratification and you have to wait for them to bloom… “wait” isn’t really accurate since you have to do a bunch of work to make sure they bloom, strike three.
So, you would think I wouldn’t bother, but last year, my husband planted two flowering plants in a tiny little area in front of our house and they grew and grew and they were just so pretty. We bought those same flowers the other day and I planted about 18 of them and three gerbera daisies (?) just because I like them. Oh, and the daisies were big and already had flowers on them, score!! It was the best thing I did today because normally I would buy them and then they would sit in the little plastic holders until they died.
I don’t feel any remorse for all the plants I have killed in my life, because my intentions are always good. I always think I’m going to water them and mess with them and maybe even enjoy doing these things. It never happens. It’s just too much work for WAY too little reward. More power to you folks who feel the “kinship” with the earth and all that. Really, I admire the hard work people put into making beautiful gardens and flowerbeds, but I am not ever going to be one of those people. All that being said, they look pretty and I’m looking forward to seeing them bloom…as of 11:15pm, they are still alive. Woohoo!