The Side-Eye from a Fiddle Leaf Fig
It all started with a slight droop. My majestic fiddle leaf fig, Gerald, once a vibrant symbol of my burgeoning plant parenthood, was looking a little…off. I rushed to his side, frantically checking the soil moisture. Bone dry! “Oh Gerald,” I cried, “How could I have let you get so thirsty?” As I watered him, I swear I saw a flash of judgment in his leaves. Okay, maybe not judgment, but it definitely wasn’t gratitude. It was more like, “Took you long enough.”
And don’t even get me started on the passive-aggressive growth spurts. I swear, he only ever seems to sprout new leaves when I’m about to go on vacation. It’s like he waits until I’m packed and ready to leave, then decides, “Now would be the perfect time to need repotting.”
“You haven’t…dusted him, have you?” she asked, her voice thick with disbelief.
My jaw dropped. Dusted? Who dusts a plant? Apparently, everyone but me. As I wiped away weeks’ worth of dust from Gerald’s leaves, I could almost hear him sigh in relief. Or maybe it was just the sound of the dust falling to the floor. Either way, I felt a profound sense of shame. I had been judged, and I deserved it.
Are We Just Paranoid Plant Parents?
Now, I know what you’re thinking: plants can’t judge. They don’t have brains or feelings or a complex understanding of human social cues. And you’re probably right. But there’s a part of me, the part that whispers apologies to Gerald every time I overwater him, that can’t help but feel like he’s watching my every move, silently assessing my worthiness as a plant parent.
So tell me, dear reader, am I alone in this? Do your plants judge you too? Or am I just projecting my own neuroses onto a leafy green roommate?