My Descent into Plant Paranoia
It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the pandemic, adopted a leafy friend. I envisioned sunshine, gentle misting, maybe even a philosophical chat (a girl can dream!). Lately, though, my relationship with my once-innocent ZZ plant, Bartholomew, has taken a turn. He’s gone from a source of joy to…well, let’s just say I’m pretty sure he’s judging my life choices.
Suddenly, self-conscious. Was he judging my lack of culinary skills? Silently pleading for something green and leafy (the horror!)? I hid the takeout, hoping to salvage some dignity.
Exhibit B: The Curious Case of the Neglected Dust Bunnies
We all have strengths. A spotless home isn’t one of mine. My cleaning schedule is more “clean when guests are imminent.” And Bartholomew knows it.
One dust-bunny-ridden afternoon, I caught him basking in a sunbeam, leaves gleaming. It was as if he deliberately highlighted the contrast between his pristine existence and the dust-coated furniture. The message was clear: “Get it together, Susan.” (Yes, I’m projecting.)