The Day My Fiddle Leaf Fig Gave Me the Side-Eye
It all started innocently enough. I was sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon I swore I wouldn’t watch, an empty bag of chips resting precariously on my stomach. You know, just a typical Tuesday night. As I reached for another chip (don’t judge, they were baked, not fried!), I caught my fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, seemingly staring at me.
Okay, maybe “staring” is a strong word. But there was something in the way his (her? I’m still not sure) leaves seemed to droop ever so slightly, the way the single new leaf that had sprouted recently seemed to quiver. It was as if Ferdinand was saying, without saying a word, “Really, Brenda? This is how you spend your evening?”
Since that fateful Tuesday, I’ve noticed a pattern. Every time I engage in what can only be described as “questionable” life choices, Ferdinand seems to react. Forget to water him for a few days (okay, maybe a week)? The droop intensifies. Order takeout for the third night in a row? Those leaves practically curl in on themselves. It’s gotten to the point where I’m afraid to even check my dating apps within his line of sight.
And it’s not just Ferdinand. My once-thriving snake plant, Slinky, who I thought was completely indifferent to my existence, has joined in on the silent judgment. I swear, I saw a new brown tip appear on her leaves the day after I accidentally set off the fire alarm trying to make toast. Coincidence? I think not.
From Plant Parent to Plant Prisoner: The Pressure is On
I used to think being a plant parent was all sunshine and cute miniature watering cans. Now, I’m not so sure. Don’t get me wrong, I love my plants (most of the time). They brighten up my apartment, purify the air, and provide me with a much-needed sense of responsibility (sometimes). But this newfound awareness of their (perceived) judgment has me second-guessing my every move.
Should I swap the reality TV for a documentary on sustainable living? Trade the takeout menus for a cookbook? Maybe start meditating next to Ferdinand every morning, just to prove I’m trying? The pressure is on, people.