Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me
The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room
It all started with a subtle droop. I was enjoying my morning coffee, scrolling through social media, when I caught a glimpse of Gerald (yes, my monstera is named Gerald). His usually perky leaves were…drooping. Not dramatically, mind you, but enough to raise an eyebrow.
“Did you water him?” my inner voice whispered accusingly.
I swear I had, but Gerald’s melancholic posture suggested otherwise. I rushed to the kitchen, filled my watering can, and gave him a good soak, all the while feeling like I was being silently judged by a being that hadn’t mastered complex speech (or any speech, for that matter). From that moment on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gerald was onto me, silently observing my every move and judging my every decision.
He. Wilted. Dramatically.
I’m talking head-bowed-in-shame, leaves-brushing-the-floor levels of dramatic. I swear I even heard a sigh escape from his direction (okay, maybe that was the wind, but still). I rushed to his rescue, showering him with apologies and promises of a more stable routine. He perked up eventually, but I could have sworn I saw a smug look on his…leaves? Was that even possible?