I am doing something wrong

I, generally speaking, am good at endeavors I engage in. I am a careful observer; my brain's wheels, they turn constantly. When it is my turn, I can deliver with ease. My scores from on line aptitude tests put me in the upper crust percentile of people who take on line aptitude tests amongst other things. All this gum flapping is not intended as a brag, but as a metaphorical slab of color correcting white balance with which other things can be held up to and seen in high contrast, as demonstrated in the above not so metaphorical photos.

wtf.

These plants at one point were healthy. Lefty came from a healthy clipping off a plant at the yoga studio. Righty, from the conservatory plant sale. It's probs been now a solid 4 or 5 months of demise for these two, who went the way of my other plant, long since gone tho I tried to repot and pretend it was just going thru a seasonal change and not the ultimate change of dying, and whose photograph shall not be shown here for that very reason - there is nothing left to photograph save for dirt and I trust that, tho professional naturalists you perhaps are not, you, readers, know what dirt looks like.

Taking myself out of the equation, a short list of possible reasons for demise exists, which include but are not limited to:

-there is no direct sunlight in my room.

-the sunfilled bathroom where I relocated Righty is, in stark contrast to the rest of the building, icy cold, save for when someone baths and the humidity level and heat jump 1000%.

-they drank too much of what was given to them.

- . . . ok that last one is a stretch. apart from sunlight, it seems these domesticated plant beings are solely dependent on moi. this is unfortunate. for as my life progresses I am coming to the realization that the green on my thumb is just paint. and washes off. sigh.

not all is lost (er, in this case, dead), tho. I have three plants left. one is doing quite well, despite its rough start (2 of the 3 sprouts kicked it within 2 weeks of living with me), and the other, well, how do they put it? has opportunity for growth. I suppose that makes for two of us.

until then, I shall tend to my remaining flora and stick to the low light/moderate temperature plants. until the time where I can get this green paint to stick permanently.

greatest invention already thought up

following a remedial online search, I came to discover that my brilliant idea has already been acted upon by others more electronically capable than I. readers, may I introduce to you sheer manifested genius: the bookmark-dictionary. it's brilliant, useful. no more having to lug around that dusty tome of a webster. you don't even have to put your own book down. short of having your own personal assistant on hand whose sole purpose in life as a personal assistant is to bestow accurate, up to date definitions on demand, this is the proverbial shit. it's the one feature on those disagreeable palm ebook things that make me pause and consider handing over my hard earned money and taking one of those paperless paperbacks for a spin.
the only thing that could make it better is if the entire gadget, and not just the keypad portion of it, fit within the pages. perhaps a few more technological advances are in order. or just a more thorough google search.

post script
I just read a bunch of reviews about the item pictured above, none of them very good. apparently the word selection is as remedial as my initial research. so until the word count of the product expands inversely to the thickness of it, I be double fisting it literary style with a novel in one hand, dictionary in the other.

why i don't sleep with snakes

that last entry, the reference to lying with myself, reminded me of the following:

i forget who told me this story:
so there was this lady. (pardon the generalizations that riddle my story like air pockets in pumice.) she owned a snake. one of them big ones like a boa or a python. the snake slept not in a terrarium like some common reptile, but with her, curled up at the foot of her most comfy bed (im gonna take a guess that she checked the single box when filing her taxes). now, they had a fine relationship for some time. snake provided cold blooded comfort, and exotic pet owning cool factor, woman provided small warm animals for reptile's digestive pleasure. everything cool? everything's cool. for a some time, at least. then woman noticed that snake was not eating as per usual. time passed, still no interest in the proffered rodents. woman took note. then snake exhibited some strange behavior. snake, instead of taking the usual assumed coiled position at the tucked end of the bed, snake decided one night to lay down next to woman, stretched out to snake's full length, which was longer than the full length of prostrate woman. hmm, woman thought, curious. more time passed. still no interest in feeding time. woman called vet.
woman: snake not be eating,
vet: snake not hungry yet maybs.
woman: oh, and snake did this weird thing and stretched out next to me in bed.
vet: stop sleeping with your snake immediately. snake is going to eat you.
apparently, (tho i have not had the time to verify this fact on wikipedia) stretching out next to live object is snakes way of sizing up their next meal. this snake was trying to see if this woman would fit inside snakes body. snake was planning on eating woman. w.t.f.
i am assuming woman took vet's recommendation and snake was sentenced to lockdown in the terrarium for attempted assassination via the unhinging of the jaws.
blast, time to go back to work. moral of the story: maybs you wanna think twice bout bunking up with slithery reptiles.

would somebody plz check the barometer, i think it has dropped

more recently, seattle has been blessed with beautiful, crisp, clear days. and by crisp i mean cold. by clear i mean wicked cold. i know it's early feb in the pacific northwest. . .but still. someone hand me my hat, my so cal roots are showing. . .

less recently, i was in houston, where the days were beautiful, crisp, clear. and by crisp i mean humid. and by clear i mean warm. like 70's warm. it was awesome.  tho actually not really cuz most of my time there was spent inside. working. where the interior weather ceaselessly pendulated from too warm to too cold. stopping at happy medium just long enough to get my hopes up only to dash them thru and thru. my coworker would, on a semi daily basis, proclaim the weather report from on high. the temperature fell into one of two categories and was accurately, truthfully reported as such: 'it's cold as balls in here,' or 'it's hot as balls in here.'

now, i am no expert in glandular temperature ranges, specifically those native to the testicular region, but my deductive reasoning skills lead me to believe that this is a little bit of an exaggeration. i am not one to call into doubt facts which i have no first hand knowledge of (i am woman, hear me.) that come from a certifiable source (ok, she is also woman, but her working knowledge of men, particularly those in kilts, far outweighs mine.)(ok, really, that's not that hard a feat.), but this one had me arching my eyebrow in a skeptical, 'oh really?' kinda way.

maybe when my hands thaw i can try to get my half melted computer up and running again and do a little wiki research on the interweb. until then, batman, i'll just hang out with the cats.