We all have our quirks. I leave dishes “soaking” for longer than I care to admit, my sock drawer resembles a black hole where pairs vanish forever, and I may or may not believe my houseplant is judging me. Okay, maybe “believe” is too strong a word. Let’s just say I have a healthy suspicion and a growing list of reasons why.
The Incident That Sparked My Plant-Judging Paranoia
It all began innocently enough. I was repotting Herbert (yes, my plant has a name, don’t judge… him). It was a messy affair involving spilled soil, a rogue spider hiding in the pot, and me uttering a string of words my grandmother wouldn’t approve of. As I held Herbert up, admiring my handiwork, I swear I saw a leaf tremble. Not just any tremble, mind you, but a very specific, “Did you really just say that?” kind of tremble. I know, I know, plants don’t have feelings. But the seed of doubt was planted (pun intended).
Since then, I’ve noticed a pattern. Whenever I do something particularly embarrassing, like attempting to sing along to a song I only vaguely remember the lyrics to, Herbert’s leaves droop. It’s as if he’s physically recoiling from the auditory assault. Then, just as I’m about to drown my shame in a pint of ice cream (don’t judge, we’ve all been there), his leaves perk back up. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I’ve seen that subtle judgment in the way the leaves tilt, the almost imperceptible eye roll (if plants had eyes, that is).
The Great Water Debate: Is My Plant a Master Manipulator?
We all know plants need water. But Herbert takes this need to a whole new level. I swear he strategically times his dramatic wilting episodes to coincide with my busiest days. You know, those days where you barely have time to shower, let alone engage in a staring contest with a potted plant to decipher if it’s thirsty. And the moment I finally cave and give him a good soak? He perks right up, smug as a bug in a rug. The audacity!