We all have them – those friends who just radiate an aura of quiet judgment. You know, the ones who raise a perfectly sculpted eyebrow when you confess to ordering takeout twice in one week? Well, move over, Brenda, because I’m convinced my houseplant has joined the tribunal of silent disapproval.
The Case of the Dramatic Droop: My Fiddle Leaf Fig Speaks Volumes
It all started innocently enough. I brought home Ferdinand the Fiddle Leaf Fig (yes, I name my plants, don’t judge me… or do, Ferdinand seems to) with the best of intentions. I envisioned us thriving together – me, a responsible plant parent, and Ferdinand, a majestic symbol of domestic bliss.
Fast forward three weeks, and Ferdinand is looking… let’s just say “less than impressed.” Every time I walk by, his leaves seem to droop lower, as if he’s sighing in despair. “Oh, you’re eating pizza AGAIN?” they seem to whisper. “Shouldn’t you be working on that novel… or at least putting away the laundry?”
