I've had this particular variety of Haworthia since August 2004. It's never done anything mind-blowing, and it hasn't even looked particularly good for the last several years, but it's survived all kinds of really non-ideal locations for nearly a decade. As you probably know by now, I will happily sing the praises of any plant that happens to be durable, whether or not it has any other redeeming features, so this is a wonderful, wonderful plant, as far as I'm concerned.
Then this winter, during one of the reorganizations, I had the thought that maybe these Haworthias (there are three of them, all clones of the original) would be happier and would do better if I gave them a brighter spot. So I moved them from a spot on a high shelf, near the ceiling in the plant room, to one of the artificially-illuminated shelves in the basement. At which point they went from looking more or less like this . . .
(which is not what Haworthias are supposed to look like: a better-grown plant would have shorter, more closely-packed leaves), to this:
Which is even less what a Haworthia is supposed to look like.
I'm not particularly worried that this means the plants are all dying. It seems fairly clear to me that this is instead some kind of restructuring in response to the increased light. I am nonetheless kind of . . . I guess the word would be uneasy. It's bad enough to have had a plant for 8.5 years that has spent most of that time looking poorly grown (because it was) but more or less symmetrical; it's worse to have a plant that looks like a freakish adolescent monster, even if it's on its way to being well-grown.