The Side-Eye Was My First Clue
It all started with a particularly rough morning. I’d spilled coffee down my shirt, tripped over the cat, and realized – with mounting horror – that I’d forgotten to pay my electricity bill. As I scrambled to salvage the situation, I caught my monstera deliciosa’s reflection in the window.
And you know what? It was totally giving me the side-eye. You know the one – that subtle tilt of the head, the slight narrowing of the…leaves? Okay, maybe it’s just my sleep-deprived brain projecting human emotions onto foliage, but still. The judgment was palpable.
Now, I consider myself a decent plant parent. I water regularly (or at least, I try to), I provide ample sunlight, and I even talk to my green buddies occasionally (don’t judge – they seem to like it!). But ever since that fateful morning, I swear my monstera’s growth has been…suspect.
It’s like this:
- I binge-watch reality TV instead of tackling my to-do list? Not a single new leaf.
- I order takeout for the third night in a row? My plant practically wilts in disapproval.
- But the moment I open a work-related email or – gasp – pull out my gardening gloves? My monstera suddenly springs to life, unfurling new growth with an almost smug air.
Coincidence? I think not. This plant is clearly trying to tell me something…and I’m pretty sure it involves less Netflix and more kale smoothies.
The Case of the Droopy Leaves and the Half-Written Novel: Is My Plant Judging My Creativity?
And then there’s the incident with my half-written novel. I’d been struggling with writer’s block for weeks, my confidence dwindling with each passing day. One evening, as I stared forlornly at my laptop screen, I noticed my usually vibrant monstera looking particularly…droopy.
I immediately went through my mental checklist: Watering? Check. Sunlight? Check. Had I accidentally insulted its taste in pottery? No, not this time. And then it hit me: my plant was mirroring my own dejected state.
Okay, I know, I know. Plants can’t actually “feel” emotions. But call it empathy, call it a sixth sense, call it plain old paranoia – but I swear my monstera was feeling my creative slump right along with me.