death before dishonor

So the other night I bought myself a plant at this really fancy shmancy store whose owners would've died or disinfected the place if they knew someone from where I live was in there. Seriously, they have little wooden chairs that cost over a thousand dollars. Anyway, when I went to check out, the guy at the register was like, "Ah, Strobilanthes. Do you know anything about them?" I had to admit that I'd never seen one before (but I'd read the tag and figured that I could handle it). The guy went on about their requirements while ringing up the purchase, and I had the distinct feeling that... well, he was disappointed to see the plant go. I tried to make a probably-not-too-reassuring joke about wishing that I'd paid more attention in botany class (which is true, seeing as my strongest memories of botany include the utter humiliation of breaking a dissecting 'scope, penis-mushrooms, and having lab cancelled one night due to Hurricane Floyd... ah, Hurricane Floyd...), but it fell flatter than flat as our customer/clerk exchange had come to an end. He wished me luck (sadly), and I thanked him before scurrying off feeling like I was sentencing a puppy to a slow, torturous end.

My mother was totally unsympathetic, as she often is about most everything that might set off my guilt-meter (whereas if she feels guilty about something, the angst in our house is never-ending until she comes to terms with it or makes herself forget about it). Besides, my mother might have been a botanist herself if she hadn't sold herself short and majored in art history.

...

Dammit, if that plant dies, I'll never hear the end of it.

At any rate, this is what it looks like - the Persian Shield. It's definitely a cool looking plant.