Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. You know, that moment when you’re surrounded by laundry piles that resemble Mount Everest, your diet consists primarily of instant ramen, and you haven’t watered your plants in… well, you can’t quite remember. It’s in these moments of utter chaos that I swear my seemingly innocent houseplant, Herbert, stares at me with a mixture of pity and disappointment.
Herbert and the Crumbling Takeout Container
It all started innocently enough. I brought Herbert home from the plant store, a vibrant little peace lily promising to add a touch of serenity to my apartment. I imagined us becoming the envy of plantfluencers everywhere. We were going to be that good.
However, life, as it often does, got in the way. Deadlines loomed, social engagements piled up, and Herbert’s once-perky leaves began to droop lower than my enthusiasm for doing laundry. One particularly rough evening, as I shamelessly scavenged the fridge for leftovers (spoiler alert: there were none), I caught Herbert’s eye. Or at least, I imagined I did. There he sat, stoic and green, silently judging me from atop the fridge as I demolished a week-old takeout container with the finesse of a starving raccoon. It was then I knew. Herbert had seen too much.
The Curious Case of the Neglected Watering Can
Time marched on, and while my life choices didn’t necessarily improve, my ability to ignore Herbert’s judgment did. That is, until the Great Watering Can Debacle of 2023. I’d optimistically filled the watering can days prior, intending to quench Herbert’s thirst. But, alas, that was before the three-day Netflix binge marathon commenced. As I sat there, bleary-eyed and questioning my life decisions (again), my gaze fell upon the neglected watering can. It was dusty, bone dry, and positioned just so that a particularly judgmental sunbeam could illuminate its emptiness.
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