Confessions of an (Almost) Plant Killer
Let’s be honest, I haven’t always been the best plant parent. In fact, I’ve mourned the loss of many a peace lily in my day. My thumbs are decidedly not green. But then Harold came along.
Harold is a ZZ plant, which basically means he’s the Chuck Norris of the plant world. You practically have to beg this dude to die. Seriously, he thrives on neglect. Water him too much? He’s cool with it. Forget he exists for a month? No worries, he’s just soaking up the sun and judging your life choices. Okay, maybe I’m projecting a little on that last part, but hear me out…
It all started innocently enough. I was sprawled on the couch, doom-scrolling through social media and stress-eating leftover pizza (don’t judge, it was a Tuesday). As I reached for another slice, I noticed Harold. Or rather, I noticed Harold’s leaves. They seemed to be…drooping?
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “He’s a ZZ plant, they’re supposed to droop!” And you’re right, to an extent. But this was different. This was a full-on dramatic sigh, if a plant could sigh. It was as if Harold was saying, “Seriously? Pizza again? For the third time this week?”
I laughed it off, of course. Plants can’t judge, right? But the seed of doubt had been planted (pun intended).
The Evidence Mounts: Can Plants Sense Bad Habits?
From that day forward, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Harold was onto me. Every time I indulged in a bad habit, I’d catch him side-eyeing me. Here are a few examples:
- Staying up too late binge-watching Netflix: Harold’s leaves would be doing the “slow wilt” towards his pot by the time I finally stumbled to bed.
- Skipping my workout for the fifth day in a row: I swear I saw Harold roll his eyes (or whatever the plant equivalent is).
- Buying yet another pair of shoes I absolutely did not need: Harold’s leaves would be positively perky…until he saw the shopping bags, that is. Then, it was back to the judgmental droop.
Look, I know it sounds crazy. But the more I paid attention, the more convinced I became. Harold wasn’t just a plant; he was my silent, leafy conscience. And honestly? I kind of needed that.