Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. You know, that moment when you’re scarfing down cold pizza at 3 AM in your pajamas, and you glance over at your perfectly poised houseplant, bathed in the glow of the refrigerator light. And in that instant, you just know. It’s judging you.
Okay, maybe not consciously. But the suspicion lingers. And lately, my leafy roommate, Ferdinand the Fiddle Leaf Fig, has been giving off some serious judgment vibes. Don’t judge me for naming my plant, you haven’t met him!
The Case of the Crumbling Cookie and the Judging Houseplant
It all started innocently enough. I was having a particularly rough day – deadlines looming, laundry overflowing, the whole nine yards. So naturally, I sought solace in the warm embrace of a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie (or three).
As I savored the sweet, gooey goodness, crumbs cascading onto my shirt (let’s be real, it happens), I caught Ferdinand’s eye. Or rather, the spot where his eye would be if plants had eyes. And the look on his… well, let’s just say his leaves seemed to droop ever so slightly.
Does My Houseplant Disapprove of My Netflix Habit?
Then there was the weekend I spent in a shame spiral of reality TV and sweatpants. Look, sometimes a person just needs a break from reality, okay? But as I settled in for my third consecutive episode of some baking competition (don’t judge!), I swear I felt a shift in the atmosphere.
Ferdinand, usually basking serenely in the sunlight streaming through the window, seemed to have taken on a distinct air of disapproval. His leaves, which normally reached towards the light with almost balletic grace, now appeared to be… judging me.