Phil, took a turn. He went from being a source of tranquility to…well, let’s just say I started to feel a distinct vibe coming from his leafy corner.
“Don’t even start, Phil,” I muttered, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “Third dates are stressful, okay?”
Of course, he didn’t answer. He just stood there, silently judging my taste in men and my questionable ability to adult. From that point on, I swear he wilted a little more every time I mentioned the guy.
The Great Takeout Container Debacle
Then came the incident with the takeout containers. I had just polished off my third night in a row of pad thai (what can I say, I was going through a phase) when I noticed Phil‘s leaves were practically dragging on the floor.
“Okay, fine,” I sighed, tossing the empty container (with a twinge of guilt) into the recycling. “I get it. You’re basically a health guru disguised as a houseplant.”
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