I was in High Wycombe, England. My parents were in Sicily. And so, sadly, was my dog. I missed my parents, but the absence of pets was a complete hardship.
So I did what kids in dorms all over the world have done to compensate. I bought a plant. It probably had a name, but I don't remember it. It certainly had a species, but I don't think I ever knew what that was.
The plant lived on my windowsill. Luckily for it, this was back when I could have uncovered windows without fear of headache, nausea, and rashes brought on by PMLE. I gave it water. I played music for it. I tried my best to be good to that plant.
One day I opened my window and the plant tumbled out. I sprinted down two flights of stairs and ran outside to retrieve it.
A few days later, it fell again. I went after it again, wondering why it never fell into the room but always fell outside.
The third time the plant fell, I realized what was happening. The plant was attempting suicide. It would rather take its own life than live with me.
I couldn't really blame it. The decision was a sensible one. Better to die quickly falling from a window than to languish away in my care. Which it would have, eventually. I've never been able to keep a plant alive, not even one that wasn't trying to kill itself.
So, I present the third person Not To Confuse With Andy...
(aka That Guy from Ground Force)
Or Anyone Else Who Can Keep a Plant Alive
You probably shouldn't confuse me with someone who'd be sniffing a flower either. I'm allergic to most of them. The suicidal plant may have been some kind of fern... I really don't know. It was definitely not something with flowers.