Boo, Bam

So it turns out that that the reason my room was beginning to smell like death was because of the blackened, rotting roots of my dried up, then drowned, then dried up, then drowned bamboo shoot.

Glad I solved that one. Apparently, even a bamboo shoot is too much additional life for me to maintain. I like to think that any future lives that I may or may not find myself responsible for (dogs, children, what have you) will be just demanding enough for me to,  I don't know, not neglect them for months at a time and therefore demonstrate more devoted caregiving. 

Or maybe I'm just all the life I'll ever be able to handle.