We all know that one friend, the one who communicates solely through loaded sighs and perfectly arched eyebrows. The one whose mere presence can make you feel like you’ve just committed a fashion faux pas of epic proportions. Well, dear readers, I think my spider plant, Gertrude, might be that friend.
The Day Gertrude Turned Her Back on Me (Literally)
It all started innocently enough. I was having a particularly rough day, the kind where you spill coffee on your only clean shirt and accidentally reply “I love you too” to your boss in an email. Seeking solace, I slumped onto the couch, only to find Gertrude‘s usually vibrant leaves facing the wall.
After a day of apologizing profusely (to a plant, yes, don’t judge), Gertrude deigned to turn back around. But the seed of suspicion had been planted. Literally.
Is My Plant’s Wilting Suspiciously Timed?
Since then, I’ve noticed a pattern. Whenever I’m feeling my most confident, rocking a new outfit, or having a productive day, Gertrude basks in the glow of my success. But the moment my self-esteem takes a dip? Wilt. Like clockwork.
Just last week, I was agonizing over a work presentation, pacing back and forth in front of Gertrude (because even anxious pacing feels more productive with an audience). Mid-sentence, I looked down to find her once-perky stems drooping like a teenager forced to endure a family reunion.