My Descent into Plant Paranoia
It happened last Tuesday, as I was sprawled on the couch, stress-eating leftover takeout and binge-watching reality TV. I glanced up at Ferdinand, my normally cheerful peace lily, and froze. His leaves, usually perky and vibrant, drooped like a teenager forced to listen to their parents’ travel stories.
“Oh, come on, Ferdinand,” I muttered, grabbing another spring roll. “Don’t judge me. It’s been a week.”
That’s when it hit me. Had Ferdinand…judged me? Was it possible that beneath his leafy exterior, my plant harbored a secret inner monologue, a running commentary on my less-than-stellar life choices?
Okay, maybe I was being paranoid. But the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became. Ferdinand wasn’t just a plant; he was a silent observer, a green, leafy witness to my daily triumphs and (mostly) tribulations.
