From Green Thumb to Green with Envy
Let’s be honest, I haven’t always had the best track record with plants. There was that unfortunate fern incident in college (RIP, Ferdinand). And who could forget the cactus that mysteriously withered under my care, despite the fact that cacti are practically designed to thrive on neglect? So, when I adopted a majestic Monstera deliciosa (let’s call her Maude) into my life, I was determined to break the curse and become a bonafide plant parent.
At first, things were glorious. Maude unfurled new leaves with the enthusiasm of a Broadway performer on opening night. I showered her with sunlight, perfectly timed waterings, and even serenaded her with my questionable ukulele skills (don’t judge, she seemed to enjoy it). Life was good, green, and thriving.
That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t a watering issue; this was a judgment issue. Maude was judging me, and frankly, who could blame her? My life at that moment was a chaotic mess of deadlines, bad decisions, and an alarmingly low supply of oat milk. It was the human equivalent of a root-bound pot and a severe case of mealybugs.