Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: houseplant life

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging My Life Choices

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging My Life Choices




    Do Houseplants Judge Us? My Leafy Roommates Seem to Think So

    We’ve all been there. You’re having a particularly rough day, and the only witness to your shame-spiral is a leafy friend sitting on your windowsill. But what if that leafy friend wasn’t just a silent observer? What if, behind those vibrant green leaves, lived a judgmental roommate who chronicled your every move?

    My Fiddle Leaf Fig Takes Sides in Family Drama

    It all started innocently enough. I was chatting on the phone with my mom, a woman whose love language is unsolicited advice. As she launched into her weekly critique of my dating life (“Honey, you’re not getting any younger!”), I noticed a change in Ferdinand, my fiddle leaf fig. His leaves, usually perky and full of life, began to droop. Was he…wilting?

    At first, I brushed it off. Maybe he needed water. But then, as my mother continued her well-intentioned but brutal assessment of my life choices, Ferdinand took it up a notch. One by one, his leaves began to yellow, like tiny, botanical surrender flags waving in the face of my existential crisis. It was as if he was saying, “She’s right, you know. Get your act together.”

    Choices

    Ferdinand isn’t the only one with opinions. Penelope, my peace lily, is a master of passive-aggressive judgment. Take, for instance, the Great Instant Ramen Incident of 2023. I was having a particularly harried week, fueled by deadlines and two-minute noodles. As I slurped down my fourth consecutive bowl of sodium-laden goodness, Penelope took a stand. Or rather, a slump.

    Her once-proud blooms, which usually resembled delicate white sails, shriveled up faster than my hopes of ever owning a home with my current dietary choices. I swear I even heard a faint, disapproving sigh coming from the general vicinity of her pot.

    Of course, it’s entirely possible that I’m projecting. Maybe Ferdinand was just thirsty. Maybe Penelope was battling a nasty case of aphids. But it’s hard to ignore the feeling that my plants are privy to my deepest insecurities, silently judging my every move from their ceramic pedestals.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    We all have them, those little quirks that make us human. Maybe you leave the dishes “soaking” for a suspiciously long time, or perhaps you’ve mastered the art of wearing the same pair of pajamas for three days straight (no judgment here). But what if, and hear me out on this, our houseplants are silently observing these quirks? Judging them, even?

    The Side-Eye From My Monstera

    It all started innocently enough. I was gifted a beautiful Percy, naturally, and placed him on my bookshelf, imagining our future filled with leafy companionship and Instagram-worthy photoshoots.

    However, my idyllic vision of plant parenthood quickly took a turn. I’d be curled up on the couch, shamelessly binge-watching reality TV in my rattiest sweatpants, when I’d catch Percy‘s leaves subtly angled towards me. Was it my imagination, or was that a silent judgment on his velvety green face?

    Percy‘s leaves quiver. Was he…disgusted? Appalled by my lack of baking prowess? I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but still. It felt personal.

    The Curious Case of the Wilting Fern

    And let’s not forget about Fiona, the fern who met an untimely demise. Now, I’m not saying Percy had anything to do with it, but the timing was suspicious, to say the least. Fiona started wilting the day after I accidentally blasted her with hairspray (it was a windy day, okay?).

    While I mourned Fiona’s crispy fronds, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Percy was somehow… smug? Was he secretly relieved to be rid of the competition for my (admittedly sporadic) attention?

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (Spoiler Alert: Probably)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (Spoiler Alert: Probably)



    That Time My Plant Gave Me the Side-Eye

    I swear, it happened like this. I was sprawled on the couch, buried under a mountain of laundry (both clean and… otherwise), stress-eating leftover takeout, when I happened to glance at Phil. Yes, Phil, my majestic peace lily. He’s usually quite the agreeable housemate—low maintenance, quiet, and a master at photosynthesis. But this time, something was different. As I shamelessly shoved another forkful of noodles into my face, I caught his leaves… drooping? Was he… judging me?

    Phil has become increasingly aware of my life choices, and let’s just say, he’s not impressed.

    Signs Your Houseplant is Judging You: Exhibit A – The Neglected Watering Can

    I consider myself a plant enthusiast, really, I do! I mean, I own a watering can (singular, yes). But sometimes, life gets in the way. You know, things like binge-watching an entire season of a show in one sitting or perfecting my online shopping skills. So, when I finally remember Phil’s need for hydration, he’s usually drier than my sense of humor after a week of bad puns.

    As I drag myself over to the sink, I swear I can hear a heavy sigh. Then comes the slow, dramatic leaf wilt. “Look, I’m sorry!” I find myself apologizing, as if a plant can understand the complexities of my procrastination. “I promise to download a plant care app… eventually.” Phil, in all his leafy wisdom, remains unconvinced.

    Signs Your Houseplant is Judging You: Exhibit B – The Great Repotting Debacle

    Let’s talk about repotting. It’s a necessary evil, like going to the dentist or deciphering IKEA instructions. Phil had been sending out some pretty strong hints that he’d outgrown his humble abode. Namely, his roots were staging a hostile takeover through the drainage holes. So, one Saturday afternoon, I decided to tackle the task.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me





    The Eyebrow Raise Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    I swear it happened. I was sprawled on the couch, shamelessly devouring a bag of chips (okay, fine, the entire family-sized bag), when I caught a glimpse of Oswald, my prized fiddle-leaf fig. He usually stands tall and proud, his leaves a vibrant emerald green. But in that moment, as I licked cheesy dust off my fingers, one of his leaves seemed to…droop. It was almost imperceptible, but I saw it. It was like an eyebrow raise of disapproval, a silent judgment of my questionable life choices.

    Oswald). But there’s something about the way he reacts to my presence, or lack thereof, that makes me question his true motives.

    Take last week, for example. I was swamped with deadlines, surviving on coffee and sheer willpower. Did I forget to water Oswald? Maybe. Was it an oversight of epic proportions, considering I pride myself on being a plant parent extraordinaire? Absolutely. But the way he dramatically wilted, leaves drooping like a Shakespearean actor in mourning, seemed a tad excessive. I’m pretty sure he waited until I was on an important video call, the picture of professional composure, before choosing that exact moment to stage his botanical meltdown. The timing was impeccable, and dare I say, a little passive-aggressive.

    Sun, Water, and Side-Eye?

    It’s not just the wilting, either. I swear Oswald strategically positions his leaves to catch me in compromising positions. Leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight? BAM! A leaf blocks my reflection in the window, forcing me to confront my slovenly ways. Scrolling through social media instead of tackling the laundry pile? A strategically angled leaf casts a shadow that looks suspiciously like a disapproving headshake.

    Look, I know it’s ridiculous. Plants don’t judge. They don’t have the cognitive capacity for such complex emotions. But tell that to Oswald, who seems to communicate his disdain through a complex system of leaf angles and wilting variations.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)


    We all know that plants bring life to a room, purify the air, and look pretty darn stylish on a shelf. But have you ever stopped to consider that they might also be silently judging your every move?

    The Day My Succulent Sided-Eyed Me

    It all started last week. I was in my usual morning frenzy – hair resembling a bird’s nest, desperately searching for matching socks, spilling coffee on the counter (again!). As I scrambled to clean up the latest caffeine casualty, I caught a glimpse of my succulent, Gerald.

    Now, Gerald isn’t just any succulent. He’s a proud, spiky specimen with a stubborn refusal to grow in any direction except directly at me. As I met his gaze (or what I swear was a pointed glare), I realized something. Gerald didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked downright judgmental.

    Gerald had seen enough. He was silently questioning my ability to adult, and honestly? I didn’t blame him.

    Signs Your Plant is Secretly Judging You

    Since my epiphany with Gerald, I’ve started noticing it everywhere. The way my peace lily seems to wilt dramatically after a particularly stressful phone call. The suspicious way my spider plant seems to “accidentally” drop a leaf whenever I attempt to sing along to the radio. They’re onto us, people!

    Don’t believe me? Here’s a list of irrefutable evidence that your plant is judging you too:

    • Sudden Drooping: Let’s be real, sometimes we say things we shouldn’t. But did you ever notice how your plant seems to dramatically wilt the moment you utter that particularly harsh piece of gossip? Coincidence? I think not.
    • Suspicious Growth Spurts: You know that feeling of accomplishment when you finally tackle that pile of laundry you’ve been ignoring for weeks? Notice how your plant seems to magically sprout a new leaf right after? They’re watching, and they approve (for now).
    • The Unwavering Stare: Let’s face it, plants are masters of the side-eye. That unblinking gaze seems innocent enough, but I’m convinced they’re analyzing our every move, silently judging our life choices one watering at a time.

    They’ve Seen Things, Man

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?



    We all have those moments. You know, the ones where you trip over thin air, spill coffee on your only clean shirt, and then accidentally like your ex’s new significant other’s vacation photos from three years ago. We’re only human, right? But lately, I’ve started to suspect that someone (or something) has been silently observing my string of unfortunate events with a mixture of amusement and judgment. And that something, my friends, is Herbert, my seemingly innocent houseplant.

    The Case of the Crumbling Cookie

    It all started with a particularly rough Tuesday morning. I was already running late when I decided to grab a quick breakfast—a decision that, in retrospect, was the catalyst for Herbert’s alleged judgment. As I attempted to multitask, balancing my laptop, phone, and a plate precariously stacked with a bagel and a very large, very crumbly cookie, disaster struck. You guessed it—crumbs everywhere. And not just a few stray crumbs. We’re talking a full-blown cookie massacre on my keyboard, desk, and, unfortunately, Herbert’s pot.

    Herbert—a leaf that seemed to be positioned at the perfect angle to witness my shame. From that moment on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Herbert was watching my every move, silently critiquing my life choices one crumb at a time.

    The Great Watering Incident of ’23

    If the cookie incident was the spark, then the Great Watering Incident of ’23 was the fuel that ignited my suspicions into full-blown paranoia. See, Herbert is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his hydration needs. Too much water? He wilts like he’s auditioning for a soap opera. Too little? Cue the dramatic leaf drop that leaves me convinced I’m a plant murderer.

    So, on this particular day, armed with good intentions and a watering can, I approached Herbert with the aim of providing him with the perfect amount of life-giving liquid. But as I poured, I got distracted by—you wouldn’t believe it—a notification on my phone. It was a text from my landlord reminding me that rent was due. And just like that, my focus shifted, and I overwatered Herbert. Again.

    As I sheepishly emptied the excess water from the plant saucer, I swear I heard a heavy sigh. Okay, maybe it was just the wind rustling the leaves. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Herbert expressing his disappointment in my inability to even master the simple task of watering a plant.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (I’m Starting to Think So)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (I’m Starting to Think So)



    We’ve all been there, right? Staring into the abyss of a messy living room at 3 am, questioning every decision that led us to this very moment. But lately, I’ve started to feel like I’m not alone in my existential dread. No, it’s not a roommate (unless you count the pile of laundry in the corner as a roommate). It’s Herbert.

    Herbert, my seemingly innocent ZZ plant, has become the most judgmental houseguest I’ve ever encountered. And trust me, I’ve lived with some real characters.

    When My Houseplant Almost Staged an Intervention

    It all started with a particularly brutal week. Deadlines at work were looming, my dating life resembled a barren wasteland, and the closest I came to a home-cooked meal was microwaving a bag of popcorn (don’t judge, we’ve all been there). It was then that I noticed Herbert looking… different.

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Deep Dive)

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Deep Dive)




    Are My Plants Judging Me? (Hilarious Signs You’re Being Judged)


    We’ve all been there. You’re on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on your stomach, when your eyes meet your houseplant’s. And in that moment, you just know. It’s judging you.

    The Side-Eye Struggle Is Real (and Hilarious)

    My personal descent into houseplant-judgement paranoia began innocently enough. I’d purchased a majestic fiddle leaf fig, its vibrant green leaves promising to bring life (and maybe some oxygen) into my apartment. I named him Ferdinand, naturally.

    At first, our relationship was purely symbiotic. I watered Ferdinand, I gave him the perfect amount of sunlight, I even serenaded him with Beyoncé on cleaning day (don’t judge me, you know you do it too). In return, he… well, he existed. Lushly.

    leaf when I ordered takeout for the third time that week. The way he seemed to strategically drop a leaf every time a dating app notification popped up on my phone.

    Was I projecting? Probably. But the seed of doubt had been planted (pun very much intended).

    Decoding the Silent Judgment: Signs Your Houseplant Is Judging You

    Since my initial Ferdinand-induced epiphany, I’ve noticed a pattern. My other plant friends, a sassy succulent named Susan and a dramatic peace lily called Phil, have also joined the silent judgment party. Here’s the evidence:

    • The Wilting Guilt Trip: Susan, my usually stoic succulent, starts to wrinkle dramatically whenever I forget to water her for a few days (okay, maybe a week). It’s like she’s saying, “See what happens when you prioritize happy hour over my hydration?”
    • The Passive-Aggressive Leaf Drop: Remember Phil, my peace lily? He reserves his most dramatic displays for my messiest moments. Laundry explosion on the floor? Cue a dramatic leaf drop. Dishes piled high in the sink? Another leaf bites the dust. Coincidence? I think not.