We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, empty takeout containers judging you from the coffee table. Suddenly, you feel it—a presence, a stare, boring into your soul. You turn, and there it is: your houseplant, leaves unmoving, yet somehow… judging.
Fernie and I: A Houseplant Love Story Gone Wrong?
It all started innocently enough. I brought Fernie home from the garden center, a bright-eyed, bushy fern promising to bring life (literally) to my apartment. I envisioned us becoming the plant-parent duo everyone envies, me showering Fernie with love and expert care, Fernie rewarding me with lush greenery and good vibes.
However, our honeymoon phase was short-lived. It started subtly—a drooping frond here, a yellowing leaf there. Then came the day I caught Fernie staring. I was in my pajamas, hadn’t showered in a while, and was attempting to make ramen in the coffee maker (don’t ask). Our eyes met. In that instant, I swear I saw a flicker of something in Fernie’s… well, leaves. Disdain? Disappointment? I couldn’t be sure, but it sent shivers down my spine.
