The Day My Fiddle-Leaf Fig Sided-Eyed Me
I swear it happened. I was sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality show marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips precariously balanced on my stomach (don’t judge, it was a cliffhanger!). As I reached for another chip, I caught my fiddle-leaf fig, Ferdinand, seemingly glaring at me. Okay, maybe “glaring” is a bit strong. But his leaves seemed to droop a little lower, his posture screamed “disappointment,” and I could have sworn there was a silent “…really?” echoing in the air.
That’s when it hit me: Ferdinand is judging me.
We’ve all been there. Life gets hectic, you forget to water your plant, and suddenly, your once-thriving green companion resembles something out of a post-apocalyptic wasteland. I’m not proud of it, but Ferdinand has seen things. He’s endured my sporadic watering schedule, which can best be described as “when I remember” and at worst, “oops, is that soil or concrete?”.
And let’s be honest, Ferdinand doesn’t hold back his disapproval. Those dramatic leaf-droops after a particularly dry spell? Pure guilt trips. The way he perks up a little *too* enthusiastically after I finally remember to water him? He’s totally rubbing it in.
Exhibit B: The Great Repotting Debacle of 2023 (and My Plant’s Reaction)
Remember that time I decided to be a responsible plant parent and repot Ferdinand? What started as a noble endeavor quickly descended into chaos. Picture this: me, covered in dirt, battling a root system that could rival a small jungle, while Ferdinand silently observed from his temporary pot-prison, probably judging my technique (and questionable choice of background music).
The evidence is undeniable. The way he stubbornly refused to thrive in his new pot for weeks afterward? Pure passive-aggression. He even sprouted a new leaf facing the wall, like he couldn’t bear to look at me for a while. I mean, come on, Ferdinand!