We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, two days into a questionable Netflix binge, when you catch a glimpse of your once-thriving houseplant. Its leaves are drooping, it’s practically begging for water, and you can’t shake the feeling that it’s…judging you.
My Fiddle Leaf Fig’s Dramatic Intervention
My journey into the oddly specific paranoia of houseplant judgment began with Ferdinand, my majestic (or so I thought) fiddle leaf fig. He was the crown jewel of my living room, a symbol of my foray into responsible adulthood. Then came the fateful day I forgot to water him. For two weeks.
I returned from a weekend getaway to find Ferdinand looking less like a majestic jungle king and more like a wilted salad. As I scrambled for the watering can, I swear he sighed dramatically. Okay, maybe not, but the judgmental aura was palpable. That’s when it hit me: Ferdinand was judging my life choices, and honestly, who could blame him?
And don’t even get me started on the time I accidentally overfertilized. Let’s just say Petunia’s silent treatment lasted a solid month. Clearly, I am not living up to her standards of plant parenthood.
Even Succulents Give the Side-Eye
You’d think succulents, with their reputation for resilience, would be above such judgment. You’d be wrong. My collection of succulents, affectionately dubbed “The Jury,” have perfected the art of the side-eye.
One particularly judgmental echeveria, whom I’ve named Gladys, seems to disapprove of my entire existence. Did I leave the blinds open too long, subjecting her to a few extra minutes of sunlight? Gladys will let me know with a withering stare. Did I dare to water her on a Tuesday instead of a Wednesday, like the rule-abiding plant parent I pretend to be? Her disapproval radiates through the room.
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