I am an orchid killer. I’d like to believe that I’m not, but the evidence is irrefutable. Every orchid that I’ve ever bought or been given has died at my hands. I’ve tried to take good care of them and provide the little guys with plenty of sunlight and water, but they always seem to bite it within a few weeks. I love orchids, especially white ones, so it makes me sad to think that I could have been responsible for their untimely ends. I had my earned leave this afternoon, and I went to Whole Paycheck Foods, set on finding a healthy-looking orchid to take home and do right by.
When I got to the store, I couldn’t do it. I spent a few minutes admiring the selection, but in the end I decided that they were too beautiful to take back to my apartment to meet the twisted fate that would inevitably befall them. I settled on buying candles that smelled like flowers instead.
When I walked out of the market, there were people waiting with clipboards rallying to get signatures for some political agenda. In the past, I’ve found myself easily stopped and pulled into whatever cause they are fighting for, but now it’s pretty simple. When they approach me and ask if I’m a registered voter, I politely inform them that I’m a felon. They are usually so caught off guard that the conversation ends pretty abruptly. And when they get curious and start asking more questions, I tell them that I’m on earned leave and don’t have time to talk. They are left confused, and I leave not feeling guilty about evading their plea for support.
I am, in fact, a felon for life, short of a presidential pardon, and as such, I have been stripped of my right to vote. Thankfully, that doesn’t extend to my right to vote as a member of the Screen Actors Guild. I love Los Angeles.
275 days to go.