The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room
It all started with a dracaena. My friend gifted it to me, swearing it was “impossible to kill.” As someone whose thumbs turn black when approaching a watering can, I was skeptical. But, determined to prove my friend wrong (and keep this leafy roommate alive), I diligently followed care instructions: water every other week, indirect sunlight, the whole shebang.
Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was…off. Every time I walked past, the dracaena seemed to tilt its leaves slightly, as if watching me with a botanical side-eye. Was it the way I devoured that entire pint of ice cream last night? The pile of laundry threatening to take over the corner? I swear I even caught it wincing when I belted out my off-key rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” while doing the dishes.
The worst part? My dracaena would be there, silently observing the entire ordeal. I swear I saw a smug little leaf nod, as if confirming, “Yep, she’s hopeless.”
The Silent Treatment (and the Accidental Confession)
Things came to a head with the arrival of a spiky cactus. Now, cacti, I can handle. They’re the low-maintenance friends who are perfectly content with a “catch-up every few weeks” kind of vibe. This little guy, however, was different.
He arrived with an air of stoic indifference. No matter how much I tried to engage him – compliments on his prickles, attempts at witty banter – he remained stubbornly silent. I started to feel like I was back in high school, awkwardly trying to make conversation with the cool kids at lunch.
One particularly stressful day, after a string of unfortunate events (spilled coffee, missed bus, terrible hair day), I completely broke down in front of the cactus. “I know, I know,” I mumbled, tears welling up, “I’m a complete mess. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive, let alone my life.”
And that’s when it happened. The cactus, for the first time since his arrival, tilted ever so slightly towards me. It was the tiniest of movements, but in that moment, I swear it felt like…understanding. Or maybe pity. Either way, it was progress.