Her demise was not my intention. With a name like Beyonce I thought this particular plant would have a long lifespan. It was not the case. Beyonce the Plant was not meant to take up a residency in our living room.
"Where are you going with Beyonce?" Pete asked innocently as I marched the plant down the stairs, through the kitchen and out into the backyard where I proceeded to toss it in a corner and then jump up and down brushing dirt off my clothes.
I broke the news to Pete: "Beyonce had bugs."
"You carried it downstairs? You hate maggots."
"I hate maggots more in our living room. Please, let's just stop talking about this."
So with Beyonce buried haphazardly in the backyard I trudged back upstairs, up another flight up stairs, and then into the bedroom where I stripped down and changed. Then I ordered a new plant online. Her name is Yonce and she is glorious and she does not (currently) have bugs.