The Day My Houseplant Filed a Formal Complaint

I want to be clear that I did not teach the plant to do this. One Tuesday there was a manila envelope on the kitchen counter, addressed to me in careful green handwriting, and inside were three pages of formal grievances from the monstera by the window.

The complaint, summarized

It had organized everything into numbered sections, which I respected:

Inconsistent watering. "Either Wednesdays or not. Pick a lane."
The radiator situation. Described, verbatim, as "a slow betrayal."
Being called Kevin in front of guests when its name is, and has always been, Mauricio.

There was a footnote. Plants apparently use footnotes now.

"I do not require affection. I require a predictable environment and the dignity of my own name." — Mauricio, paragraph four

My response

I did what any reasonable person does when served documents. I drafted a reply, got most of the way through, and then realized I was negotiating watering rights with a vascular plant at eleven at night.

So I just moved it away from the radiator and started watering on Wednesdays.

What I learned

The grievances were, annoyingly, correct. The radiator was a slow betrayal. I had been calling it Kevin. Sometimes the most unhinged feedback in the room is also the most accurate, and the only weird part is the envelope it arrives in.

Mauricio has not filed anything since. I take that as a good review.