At first, I panicked. Had I forgotten to water him? Was he getting too much sun? But then it hit me – the little green drama queen was guilt-tripping me. It was as if he was saying, “Look at me, withering away while you neglect our self-care routine for your stressful life!”

Naturally, I responded the only way any rational person would: I launched into a five-minute apology to a plant, promising him a weekend of classical music and extra plant food. Don’t judge, it worked. Herbert perked right up.

Exhibit B: The Case of the Untimely Bloom

If the wilting incident wasn’t enough to convince me of Herbert’s judgmental side, the “untimely bloom” solidified it. Now, I consider myself a relatively tidy person (emphasis on “relatively”). But life gets busy, laundry piles up, and sometimes, just sometimes, a stray coffee mug might find its way onto the windowsill (Herbert’s domain, I know, I know).

So imagine my surprise when, after a particularly chaotic week (let’s just say the laundry monster won that round), Herbert decided to grace me with a single, perfect bloom. Was it a coincidence? A random act of botanical kindness?

I think not.

This, my friends, was a passive-aggressive power move of the highest order. It was as if Herbert was saying, “Despite your best efforts to turn this place into a disaster zone, I rise above. I am beauty. I am grace. You, on the other hand…”