We all suspect our pets judge our questionable life choices (side-eyeing you, Mr. Whiskers). But recently, I’ve started suspecting a new member of my household is silently critiquing my every move: my seemingly innocent houseplant, Herbert.

The Meltdown Herbert Witnessed

It all started with a particularly rough day. Picture this: I’m in my pajamas, hair a mess, frantically searching for my missing keys (spoiler alert: they were in the refrigerator). As I’m spiraling into a caffeine-deprived frenzy, I catch Herbert’s eye—or at least where I assume his eye would be if plants had eyeballs. He seemed to be…leaning in? Judging?

“Don’t judge, Herbert,” I muttered, feeling slightly ridiculous for talking to a plant. But the seed of doubt had been planted (pun intended). Was Herbert silently judging my organizational skills? My life choices? The fact that I still haven’t unpacked those boxes from six months ago?

The Case of the Droopy, Dramatic Leaves

My suspicions only grew from there. One morning, I woke up late, rushed out the door for work, and completely forgot to water Herbert. When I returned home, exhausted and ready to collapse, I was met with a sight that chilled me to my core: Herbert’s leaves were drooping lower than my motivation to do laundry.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “He was thirsty, duh.” But hear me out. This wasn’t just your average, run-of-the-mill thirst droop. This was a strategic, calculated droop designed to evoke maximum guilt. It was as if he was saying, “Oh, so you have time to scroll through social media for three hours, but you can’t spare two minutes to water the plant that brings life-giving oxygen into your messy apartment?”

The Great Repotting Debacle

Then came the great repotting incident. Armed with good intentions (and a YouTube tutorial), I decided to give Herbert a more spacious abode. Let’s just say things didn’t go as planned. Soil went flying, I may have sworn a little too loudly, and Herbert ended up slightly tilted at a precarious angle.

As I surveyed the carnage, I could have sworn I heard a heavy sigh. Okay, maybe it was just the wind. But still! The look on Herbert’s…well, the look he would have had if he had a face…spoke volumes. It screamed, “I trusted you. I thought you were a responsible plant parent. Now look at us.”

Help! Is It Just Me, or Do Plants Judge?

Maybe I’m just projecting. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or the fact that I talk to my plants more than actual humans these days. But I can’t shake the feeling that Herbert is silently judging my every move, from my questionable taste in reality TV to the ever-growing pile of laundry in the corner.

So tell me, dear readers, am I alone in this? Do your plants judge you too? Or am I destined to live in fear of Herbert’s silent, leafy judgment for the rest of our days?