Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me




Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me


We all have our little quirks, right? Those habits we only indulge in when we think no one’s watching. But what if someone, or rather something, is always watching? What if that something is… your houseplant?

Side-Eye From a Fiddle-Leaf Fig?

It all started with a feeling. You know that feeling when you’re pretty sure someone’s staring at you, so you glance up, and BAM—direct eye contact? Well, replace “someone” with “my oversized fiddle-leaf fig,” and that’s how it all began. I swear, I caught that plant side-eyeing me as I devoured an entire bag of chips in one sitting. It was a look that said, “Really, Brenda? Again?”

Plant Judgment?

Now, I’m not a bad plant parent. I water regularly (or at least I try to), I provide ample sunlight, and I even talk to my leafy friend occasionally (don’t judge). But it’s like the plant knows when I’m slacking off. Forget to water it for a few days? Cue the dramatic leaf droop. Miss a dusting? Expect a symphony of sighs disguised as rustling leaves.

One particularly embarrassing episode involved a disastrous attempt at baking banana bread (let’s just say smoke alarms were involved). As I surveyed the kitchen carnage, covered in flour and shame, I swear I heard a faint “tsk-tsk” coming from the direction of my usually chipper peace lily.

Is it Timing… Or Houseplant Espionage?

Here’s the thing: my plant’s judgment isn’t limited to bad habits. It also seems to have impeccable comedic timing. Trying to have a serious phone conversation? Guaranteed my monstera will choose that exact moment to shed a leaf, landing with a dramatic thud right next to my foot. Attempting to impress a date with my extensive knowledge of photosynthesis? My usually chatty spider plant will suddenly clam up, leaving me to fill the awkward silence.

And don’t even get me started on the time I was venting to a friend about a particularly frustrating day, only to have a rogue vine from my pothos snake out and gently caress my arm. Was it a gesture of comfort or a passive-aggressive way of saying, “Get a grip, Brenda?” I’m still not sure.