Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me
Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. Staring into the abyss of a messy living room, three empty coffee mugs perched precariously on the shelf, laundry threatening to engulf the sofa – and then it hits you. That distinct feeling of being watched. You turn, and there it is, silent and still: your plant.
But this isn’t just any plant, oh no. This is Beatrice.
Beatrice and the Case of the Crooked Blinds
My suspicions began innocently enough. One morning, I was rushing to get ready for work, hair resembling a bird’s nest, mismatched socks adorning my feet – the usual chaos. As I scrambled for my keys, I caught Beatrice’s eye (or, well, the general direction where a plant‘s eye would be). And that’s when I saw it – a subtle shift, a slight tilt of her leaves. It was as if she was… judging my choice of footwear.
