This week has me thinking about karma, and signs from the universe. What can I say, I can be philosophical when I want to be.

As you probably know, I am the Mint editor. I get to say mint all day long. “Oh, don’t worry boss, Mint is going great.” “Would you like to work for the Mint section?” “Look at my pages, aren’t they just minty fresh?”

Considering I got to choose the name, I finally decided a few weeks ago that I should probably get a mint plant. I mean, why not? They’re cute, they smell real nice, and they are literally what I named my section after.

So I went to the Moscow Farmers Market. I got some flowers, and then I saw the mint plants and took the plunge. I had been considering getting a fresh new plant for my collection, but I was scared — what if it didn’t like me? What if it never called?

I put my heart on the line and got myself a mint plant. And it was so cute, it even had little flowers. I walked around the rest of the market sniffing the leaves and looking like a crazy person.

Fast forward a few days, and all hell breaks loose. I am used to easy plants, ones I can forget to water once in a while and they will still spring right back after some H2O. Well, I come into my kitchen after a few days, and my mint plant is withering. I get it some water, and it bounced back by the next day.

This happened a few more times, but I finally thought I’d gotten into a habit of watering it regularly.

Then, just this last weekend, I come into my kitchen and there it is, all the leaves totally dry, wrinkled, the lower half completely bare as the dead foliage lay in a thin blanket on the soil. Panicked, I watered it, hoping the half with leaves still attached would perk up.

I checked on it the next day: nothing. Sunday rolls around, still nothing. I finally realized I had to fess up to my crime. I killed my mint plant. And I only had it for three weeks.

Back to superstitions and signs, the death of my most recent living acquisition leads me to believe this: I will be the end of the Mint section. I am sorry, my beloved fans, but if this weekend has taught me anything, it’s that actually not procrastinating feels great, and that no matter how hard I try, I still kill my plants.

So, my beloved editors, readers, writers: I am sorry in advance for the inevitable fate of the Mint arts and culture section. The plant gods have spoken, and I am not fit to care for anything mint. This is not my resignation, merely my warning and apology in advance.

A funeral for Claire the mint plant will be held today at noon. I am not going to give you any more information, because I don’t actually want you to show up. Now screw the haters and go slay.

Jennifer Ladwig is a senior multimedia journalism major from Washougal. She can be contacted at [email protected].