Just Relaxed Blog

Category: Personal Essay

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Line-Stander (And Why I’m Now an Expert)

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Line-Stander (And Why I’m Now an Expert)

    My Line-Standing Origin Story

    Let’s be honest, nobody likes waiting in lines. We tolerate them. We endure them. But secretly, we all wish we had a magical teleportation device to bypass these human traffic jams. Well, I recently had an experience that thrust me headfirst into the bizarre world of lines, transforming me from a casual queuer into, dare I say, a Line-Standing Connoisseur.

    It all started with my niece’s undying devotion to a certain boy band whose name I’m legally obligated not to mention (let’s just call them “The Heartthrobs”). When their concert tickets went on sale, my sister, bless her soul, volunteered me for the “honor” of securing those golden tickets. Little did I know, this wasn’t just standing in line—this was Line-Standing Bootcamp.

    Line-Standing Etiquette

    The first thing I learned is that a line is a temporary microcosm of society. You’ve got your chatty Cathy’s, your stoic silent types, your snack smugglers, and the ones who mysteriously disappear for 20 minutes only to return smelling suspiciously of hot dogs. The key is to find your people—those who respect the unspoken code:

    • Small Talk is Okay, Life Story Time is Not: A friendly “Crazy weather, huh?” is acceptable. Launching into your detailed genealogy is grounds for eye-rolls.
    • Personal Space is Sacred: Unless you’re sharing a life raft, maintain a respectable bubble. Nobody wants to be intimately acquainted with your backpack.
    • The Line-Cutter is the Enemy: This is a universal truth. We must band together to thwart those who dare to undermine the very fabric of our orderly queue.

    Rule #2: Gear Up for the Long Haul

    Remember those survival shows where people pack weeks’ worth of supplies into tiny backpacks? That’s the energy I’m talking about. Here’s a pro-tip from a seasoned veteran (me, obviously):

    1. The Essentials: Water bottle, snacks (trail mix is your friend), phone charger (portable battery pack = lifesaver).
    2. Comfort is King: Comfortable shoes are non-negotiable. Consider a foldable chair if you’re feeling ambitious (pro-level move).
    3. Entertainment: Book, podcast, that Sudoku app you downloaded and swore you’d use—now’s the time, folks.

    Oh, and a word on bathroom breaks. Strategize these like a military operation. Coordinate with your line neighbors (remember Rule #1!), and for the love of all that is holy, don’t be that person who holds everyone up because they “didn’t think they had to go” five minutes ago.

  • The Unspoken Rules of the Public Restroom (and the People Who Break Them)

    The Unspoken Rules of the Public Restroom (and the People Who Break Them)




    The Unspoken Rules of the Public Restroom (and the People Who Break Them)


    A Symphony of Awkwardness in Public Restrooms

    The other day, I found myself trapped in one of those airtight, single-occupancy public restrooms. You know the kind – the ones where the walls sweat and the air is thick with the ghosts of hand soap past. I was minding my own business, you know, when suddenly, a sound pierced the delicate silence. It was a symphony of awkward throat clearings and muffled grunts, originating from the stall next door. The culprit was attempting to engage in what can only be described as a full-blown conversation…on speakerphone.

    Look, I get it. We all have our bathroom habits, but some things should remain sacred, shrouded in the mystery of porcelain and flickering fluorescent lights. So, in the name of all that is holy and hygienic, let us delve into the unspoken rules of the public restroom, and the people who seem determined to shatter them.

    Public Restroom Etiquette: The Phone Zone is a No-Go Zone

    Let’s address the elephant in the room, or rather, the ringing phone in the next stall. Public restrooms are not your personal phone booth. No one, and I mean NO ONE, needs a play-by-play of your Aunt Mildred’s bunion surgery while they’re trying to…well, you get the picture.

    And while we’re on the topic of phones, let’s talk about speakerphone etiquette. Spoiler alert: there is none. Unless you’re a surgeon directing a life-saving procedure via FaceTime (and even then, questionable), keep your conversations private. We don’t need to know about your Tinder date or your latest stock options.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent Too)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent Too)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, my history with plants was less “green thumb” and more “leaves-turning-brown-on-contact.” I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. You know, the plant that thrives on neglect? Yeah, not even those desert warriors could survive my presence.

    So, imagine my surprise when, during the depths of lockdown boredom, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a sad-looking peace lily at the grocery store. It was like it was sending me an S.O.S. with its droopy leaves. Against my better judgment (and the warnings of my roommate), I took it home. And that, my friends, is how my journey into the wonderful world of plant parenthood began.

    The Unexpected Joys of Watching Things Grow (No, Really!)

    I’m not going to lie, the first few weeks were a nerve-wracking dance of Googling “how much water does a peace lily need” and frantically checking for signs of life. But then, something magical happened. My neglected peace lily, the one I was convinced I’d already murdered with kindness (or lack thereof), sprouted a new leaf.

    That tiny, green shoot filled me with an absurd amount of joy. It was like witnessing a tiny miracle, a testament to the fact that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t destined to be a plant grim reaper after all. And honestly, that feeling? It’s addictive. There’s something incredibly satisfying about nurturing another living thing and watching it thrive under your care.

    Plants: The Chillest Roommates You’ll Ever Have

    Unlike my actual roommate who tends to leave dirty dishes in the sink and blast terrible music at 2 a.m., my plants are the epitome of chill. They don’t require awkward small talk, they haven’t once complained about my questionable taste in reality TV shows, and they actually improve the air quality. Win-win!

    Plus, they’re excellent listeners. Having a bad day? Tell it to the succulents! Feeling stressed? Confide in your monstera! They won’t judge (or at least, I don’t think they will…).

    • Bonus: Plants are proven to reduce stress and boost your mood. Science says so!
    • Double Bonus: They can even make your home look more stylish. Forget expensive artwork, just get yourself a fiddle leaf fig and watch the compliments roll in!

    Ready to Embrace Your Inner Plant Parent?

    So, what are you waiting for? Ditch that black thumb and join the wonderful world of plant parenthood! Trust me, it’s way more fun (and less messy) than you might think.

    Now, tell me, what’s your biggest fear about becoming a plant parent? Let me know in the comments below!

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant


    My Thumb Is Not So Green

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing nature. I’m more of a “forget to water myself” kind of person, let alone another living thing. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a houseplant—a supposedly “easy to care for” peace lily—I accepted with a mix of skepticism and terror. I mean, I’d successfully killed a cactus once. A CACTUS!

    But this little plant, with its deep green leaves and surprisingly resilient disposition, ended up teaching me more than I could have ever imagined. Who knew such profound wisdom could sprout from a pot of soil?

    Plant Parents)

    My first lesson came in the form of a droopy, sad-looking plant. I’d overwatered it. In my enthusiasm to not be a plant murderer, I’d drowned the poor thing. Thankfully, after some frantic Googling and a whole lot of apologizing to the peace lily, I managed to revive it. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

    Turns out, plants, like people, thrive on consistency, not sporadic bursts of attention. Who knew? (Okay, maybe everyone else, but I was clearly late to the plant-whispering party). Learning to be patient, to observe and respond to its subtle cues—a slightly wilted leaf, a drooping stem—was an exercise in mindfulness I didn’t know I needed.

    Growth Takes Time (and the Occasional Repotting)

    As the weeks turned into months, my little peace lily, much to my surprise, actually started to thrive. It sprouted new leaves, its roots grew strong, and it even graced me with a beautiful white bloom. I was ecstatic! But then, just as I was starting to think I’d graduated from Plant Killer to Plant Whisperer, it started to wilt again.

    Turns out, even with the best care, sometimes you need to shake things up a bit. My plant had simply outgrown its pot. It was time for a change, a chance to spread its roots and reach new heights.

    This, I realized, applied to my own life too. There were times when I needed to step outside my comfort zone, to embrace new challenges and opportunities for growth, even if it meant feeling a little uncomfortable at first. Just like my peace lily, I needed space to blossom.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, confession time: I used to be a notorious plant killer. Seriously, I could wither a succulent in a sauna. Give me a cactus, and I’d somehow manage to drown it. It was a sad state of affairs. So, imagine my surprise when, during a particularly uneventful trip to the grocery store, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a droopy little peace lily.

    “Don’t do it,” my inner voice cautioned, “Remember Barry the begonia? And what about Steve the spider plant? Their demise still haunts my dreams!”

    But something about the lily’s sad little leaves called to me. Maybe it was the promise of some much-needed greenery in my life, or maybe it was the deeply discounted price tag. Whatever the reason, I caved.

    And that, my friends, is how my journey into the unexpected (and surprisingly delightful) world of plant parenthood began.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant






    My Thumb Is Not So Brown After All?

    I’ve never been particularly “good” with plants. In fact, I’m pretty sure I single-handedly kept several plant nurseries afloat with my repeat business. Let’s just say, my apartment resembled a plant graveyard, littered with the ghosts of ferns past. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly little ZZ plant, I accepted it with a mix of cautious optimism and impending doom. I named him Stanley, mostly because it felt appropriate for a plant I assumed wouldn’t live long enough to earn a real name. Little did I know, Stanley was about to teach me a whole lot more than just how to keep something green alive.

    Lesson #1: Patience, Young Padawan

    Now, I’m a bit of an instant gratification kind of gal. I like my coffee brewed quickly, my internet faster, and my results, well, immediate. Stanley, however, operates on Stanley-time. He takes his sweet time to sprout new growth, unfurling each new leaf with the deliberate grace of a sloth in a yoga class. At first, I’d hover over him like a worried parent, convinced his lack of lightning-fast progress meant I was doing something wrong. But as weeks turned into months, and Stanley continued to thrive (at his own pace, of course), I realized something profound: not everything in life needs to happen at warp speed. Sometimes, the most rewarding things take time, patience, and a whole lot of trust in the process.

    Stanley wasn’t immune to the occasional mishap. I’m talking accidental overwatering, a near-death experience thanks to a curious cat, and even a brief but terrifying run-in with a rogue ping pong ball. But here’s the thing: through it all, Stanley persevered. He bounced back from every setback stronger and more determined to thrive. He reminded me that resilience isn’t about avoiding challenges; it’s about facing them head-on, learning from them, and emerging on the other side, a little battered maybe, but ultimately better for the experience.

    Lesson #3: The Power of Simplicity

    I’m a bit of an over-giver, in all aspects of life. Need someone to organize your sock drawer? I’m your girl. Craving a five-course meal at 3 am? I’ve got you covered. So naturally, when it came to Stanley, I showered him with attention. I watered him religiously, fertilized him like there was no tomorrow, and even serenaded him with my questionable rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” (don’t judge). But then I learned something surprising: Stanley thrived on neglect. Well, not exactly neglect, but he definitely preferred a more hands-off approach. He taught me the power of simplicity, the beauty of letting go, and the importance of not smothering those we love, even with good intentions (sorry, Stanley!).

  • The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry

    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry



    We all have those mundane tasks that make up the rhythm of our lives. For some, it’s washing dishes. For others, it’s mowing the lawn. Me? I find myself pondering the mysteries of the universe while folding laundry.

    The Case of the Missing Sock and Other Existential Crises

    Just last week, I was pairing socks – a task that already feels like playing garment roulette – when I stumbled upon yet another solo sock. Where do they go? Is there a parallel universe populated solely by these abandoned socks, living their best lives without their partners? Do they miss us?

    dryer of time, hoping to find our perfect match? It’s enough to make you reach for the fabric softener (extra scent, please!).

    The Washing Machine as a Time Machine (Sort Of)

    There’s something oddly satisfying about pulling a freshly laundered load out of the dryer. Everything is warm, fluffy, and smells vaguely of springtime. It’s in these moments, surrounded by the comforting hum of the dryer, that I’m reminded of simpler times.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)



    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Journey Begins

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a friend to foliage. In fact, I was notorious for accidentally offing any greenery that dared to cross my threshold. Cacti, succulents—you name it, I unintentionally sent them to the great greenhouse in the sky.

    plant parent bug bit me, and there was no turning back.

    Stress Relief? Interior Design Guru? The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    Who knew that nurturing something green could be so therapeutic? These days, I swear by the calming ritual of watering, misting, and just generally hanging out with my plant babies. Forget meditation apps—give me a watering can and a fussy fern any day! Here’s the deal: plants are like leafy, low-maintenance companions that actually improve your air quality. What’s not to love?

    And speaking of love, let’s talk about how plants can transform your living space. Remember that dark, drab corner that’s been cramping your style? Enter: a majestic Monstera or a vibrant prayer plant. Suddenly, you’re not just a plant parent; you’re an interior design genius!

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    We all know that feeling, right? That prickle on the back of your neck when you’re scarfing down leftover takeout at 2 AM, convinced your perfectly potted peace lily is whispering, “Seriously?” to the empty wine glass on the counter. Okay, maybe it’s just me. But hear me out, because I’ve compiled some pretty compelling evidence that my houseplant, Herbert (yes, he has a name, don’t judge!), is judging my life choices.

    Exhibit A: The Great Chip Crumb Debacle of ’23

    Picture this: It’s a Friday night, I’m home alone, rocking my oldest sweatpants and a questionable top knot. On the coffee table, a monument to my questionable decision-making: a family-sized bag of cheesy puffs, already half-gone. As I reach for another fistful, a stray crumb tumbles from my grasp and lands, with a soft *thump*, in Herbert‘s pot. I freeze.

    Now, any rational person would simply pick up the crumb and continue their cheesy puff-fueled descent into blissful oblivion. But not me. Because in that moment, I swear Herbert‘s leaves drooped just a little lower. It was a subtle shift, but unmistakable, like a disappointed sigh translated into plant language.

    Exhibit B: The Case of the Neglected Watering Can

    We all have our strengths. Plant care, sadly, is not one of mine. I try, I really do. But life gets hectic, you know? Deadlines loom, social obligations beckon, and suddenly it’s been three weeks since I last watered Herbert. And how does he react? By transforming into the botanical equivalent of a sulking teenager.

    Gone is the perky, vibrant foliage of his glory days. In its place: a symphony of drooping leaves and dramatic wilting. I swear I even saw a brown spot forming on one particularly offended leaf. The worst part? He knows I know. He’s doing it on purpose, I’m convinced.

    Exhibit C: The Suspiciously Well-Timed Growth Spurts

    Okay, I’ll admit, it’s not all doom and gloom in the realm of Herbert and his passive-aggressive plant judgments. There are moments, fleeting but glorious, when he seems almost…proud of me. Like the time I finally finished that freelance project I’d been procrastinating on for weeks. Or the morning after I actually cooked a healthy dinner (okay, it was just salad, but it counts!).

    On these rare and wondrous occasions, Herbert rewards my efforts with a sudden burst of growth. A new leaf unfurls, reaching towards the sunlight like a tiny, green thumbs-up. Coincidence? I think not. Herbert, in his own silent, leafy way, is acknowledging my triumphs.

    So, Is My Plant Judging Me, or Am I Just Crazy?

    Perhaps I’m reading too much into things. Maybe Herbert’s drooping leaves are just a result of inconsistent watering, not a commentary on my questionable life choices. But there’s a part of me, the part that still believes in magic and the interconnectedness of all living things, that likes to think otherwise.

    What do you think? Have you ever caught your houseplants throwing shade your way? Share your stories in the comments below, because misery loves company (and maybe a little plant-based therapy).

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, folks. I used to be a plant killer. A serial one, in fact. I’d walk into the garden center with the best intentions, seduced by the vibrant orchids and leafy ferns, only to watch them wither and die a week later. My apartment looked like a graveyard of neglected greenery, a testament to my inability to keep anything alive that wasn’t powered by batteries.

    But then something magical happened. I stumbled upon a scraggly little succulent at a flea market, a dusty survivor with a “please love me” look in its tiny pot. Against my better judgment (and the advice of my horrified friends), I took it home.

    And guess what? That little succulent thrived! It grew new leaves, unfurled delicate blooms, and basically became my plant child. I was hooked. Thus began my journey into the wonderful, wacky world of plant parenthood.

    Leafy Roommates

    Now, I know what you’re thinking: Plants? Really? What’s so great about a bunch of leafy roommates who don’t pay rent? Well, let me tell you, the joys of plant parenthood are many and surprising:

    • Stress Relievers Extraordinaire: Forget the expensive spa day. Caring for plants is incredibly therapeutic. There’s something deeply calming about digging your hands in soil, watering thirsty leaves, and watching new growth emerge. It’s like meditation, but with more chlorophyll.
    • Interior Design on a Budget: Plants are the ultimate home décor hack. They add instant life, color, and texture to any space, transforming your humble abode into a vibrant oasis (or at least a convincing Instagram backdrop). And the best part? They’re way cheaper than that designer sofa you’ve been eyeing.
    • They Make You Look Responsible (Kind Of): Let’s face it, keeping a plant alive gives the illusion of having your life together. Sure, you might forget to pay your bills on time, but hey, at least your monstera is thriving! It’s a small victory, but we’ll take it.

    Plant Parenthood for Beginners: Tips for Success (Even if You’re a Recovering Plant Killer)

    Ready to embrace your inner plant parent? Awesome! Here are a few tips to get you started:

    1. Start Small and Simple: Don’t go overboard with a finicky fiddle-leaf fig right off the bat. Opt for beginner-friendly options like snake plants, ZZ plants, or the aforementioned succulents. They’re practically indestructible, even for us recovering plant killers.
    2. Don’t Overwater (Seriously): Overwatering is the kiss of death for most houseplants. When in doubt, feel the soil. If it’s dry, water it. If it’s damp, leave it alone. Your plants (and your peace of mind) will thank you.
    3. Embrace the Learning Curve: Look, even seasoned plant parents kill a plant (or five) from time to time. It’s all part of the journey. Learn from your mistakes, do your research, and remember, every brown leaf is an opportunity for growth (pun intended).