We’ve all been there, right? Staring out the window at 3 am, questioning every decision that led us to this very moment. But lately, I’ve started to feel like I’m not alone in my existential dread. See, I think my houseplant is judging me.
The Side-Eye From My Spider Plant
It all started subtly. I’d be sprawled on the couch, another night lost to a Netflix marathon, when I’d catch a glimpse of Gerald (yes, my spider plant is named Gerald). His leaves, usually vibrant and reaching for the sky, would be drooping ever so slightly, like he was physically manifesting his disappointment in my life choices.
At first, I brushed it off. “It’s just a plant, Sarah,” I’d tell myself. “It doesn’t have the cognitive function to judge your questionable taste in reality TV.” But then came the sighing.
