Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: life choices

  • 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).

  • Is My Plant Silently Judging My Life Choices? An Investigation

    Is My Plant Silently Judging My Life Choices? An Investigation




    Is My Plant Silently Judging My Life Choices? An Investigation


    Do Plants Have a Sixth Sense for Life Choices?

    Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. You’re going about your day, maybe in your pajamas at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday (no judgment, we’ve all had those days), when you catch it. That sideways glance from your leafy roommate, the one you swore you watered last week (or was it the week before?). It’s subtle, this judgment, hidden behind a curtain of vibrant green leaves, but it’s there. And it got me thinking: are our plants silently judging our life choices?

    life had descended into a chaotic mess of takeout containers and missed deadlines.

    Was Ferdinand’s melancholy a reflection of my own internal state? Was he judging my descent into chaos? I repotted him with a renewed sense of purpose, vowing to get my own life in order. Coincidence? Perhaps. But the new growth that sprouted a week later felt suspiciously like a silent nod of approval from my leafy friend.

    Exhibit B: The Succulent Side-Eye and Questionable Choices

    Then there’s Susan, my stoic succulent. Susan is a low-maintenance gal, content with a splash of water every other week and a sunny windowsill. But lately, I’ve noticed a certain…side-eye whenever I reach for that second glass of wine after a long day. It’s like she’s judging my coping mechanisms, silently advocating for a calming cup of herbal tea instead.

  • 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 Silently Judging My Life Choices?

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?




    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?


    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon you swore you wouldn’t watch, and you catch a glimpse of your houseplant. It’s just sitting there, silently photosynthesizing, but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s judging you.

    Okay, maybe it’s just me. But hear me out, because I’ve compiled some pretty compelling evidence that my seemingly innocent houseplant, Herbert (yes, he has a name), is actually a very opinionated roommate in disguise.

    The Case of the Wilting Leaves

    It all started innocently enough. Herbert, a majestic peace lily I’d adopted from the supermarket, was thriving. Lush, green, the picture of plant perfection. Then came my quarter-life crisis.

    I’m talking career uncertainty, questionable dating app choices, the whole shebang. And guess what? Herbert started wilting. Not dramatically, mind you, but just enough to make me feel like I was failing at the one thing I thought I was good at: keeping a plant alive.

    I’d frantically Google things like “Is my peace lily judging my life choices?” and “Can plants sense existential dread?” (The internet, as always, provided no definitive answers.)

  • 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.