Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: lifestyle

  • The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)



    The 5:00 AM Pact (and My Immediate Betrayal)

    My alarm clock sang its cheerful tune at 5:00 AM. Okay, “cheerful” might be a stretch. It was more like a digital rooster crowing directly into my ear. I’d made a pact with myself, you see. I was going to be one of those mythical creatures: a morning person.

    This delusion usually strikes me once a year, usually after reading some article about the productivity secrets of CEOs who wake up before dawn. This time, it was an Instagram post showcasing a woman sipping lemon water in a sun-drenched yoga pose as a majestic sunrise painted the sky behind her. “This could be me,” I’d thought, blissfully ignorant of the sleep inertia that awaited me.

    Back to the alarm. I smashed the snooze button with the fury of a thousand grumpy bears. Nine minutes later, the rooster crowed again. This cycle repeated itself until my actual, human-powered alarm (my six-year-old son) burst into my room demanding pancakes.

    Operation Sunshine: My Failed Morning Routine Experiments

    My initial failure didn’t deter me. Oh no, I had strategies! I researched the science of sleep cycles, invested in a sunrise alarm clock, and even tried that whole “going to bed early” nonsense (spoiler alert: Netflix always wins).

    Here’s a glimpse into my week of valiant, albeit ridiculous, efforts:

    1. Monday: Sunrise alarm clock. Verdict: Pleasant, but entirely ineffective at rousing a determined sleeper. I woke up at noon to the smell of burning toast (apparently, I also tried to make breakfast before going back to sleep).
    2. Tuesday: Motivational mantra and vigorous exercise. Verdict: Managed to drag myself out of bed and through a 10-minute yoga video. Immediately rewarded myself with a nap on the yoga mat.
  • The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)


    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through Instagram at midnight, stumbling upon a post of some impossibly perfect human who’s already finished their morning yoga, green smoothie, and daily meditation before the sun even thinks about rising.

    And in that moment, bathed in the pale glow of our phone screens, we think, “I could be like that! I could be a morning person!”

    The Pact I Made with the Devil (aka My Alarm Clock)

    My attempt to join the ranks of chipper morning people started innocently enough. It was a particularly brutal Monday morning, the kind where even my coffee looked at me with pity. I was running late, hair a mess, tripping over my own feet, and desperately trying to find my keys (spoiler alert: they were in the fridge).

    That’s when I decided, “Enough is enough! I’m going to become a morning person, conquer the day, and be the envy of all who cross my path!”

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me



    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    The Side Eye from a Ficus

    Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on your stomach. You glance up, and there it is: that look. You know the one— a mixture of disappointment and disdain— from your houseplant. Okay, maybe I’m projecting, but hear me out. My ficus, Ferdinand, has been throwing some serious shade my way lately, and I’m convinced it’s because he secretly judges my life choices.

    maybe that was just the wind.

    Exhibit B: The Curious Incident of the Takeout Containers

    I’ll admit, I have a weakness for takeout. Pad thai on Tuesday? Why not! Sushi on Friday? Obviously! But apparently, Ferdinand finds my culinary choices appalling. I can practically hear him tut-tutting as I unpack yet another styrofoam container, his leaves rustling in disapproval. “Honestly,” he seems to murmur, “a salad wouldn’t kill you.”

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    houseplant casually perched on a shelf, radiating an aura of effortless serenity.

    “I need that,” I told myself, gazing at my own reflection in the dusty monitor. “A plant. That’s what’s missing from my life.”

    Operation Green Thumb: From Enthusiasm to Near-Disaster

    My journey into the world of indoor greenery started with the same enthusiasm I reserve for starting (and promptly abandoning) ambitious knitting projects. I envisioned myself as a modern-day plant whisperer, nurturing life and cultivating an oasis of calm in my otherwise chaotic apartment.

    plant mister (because, you know, humidity). My new leafy roommate seemed happy, even sprouting a new leaf. “See,” I told my skeptical cat, “I told you I could do this!”

    Then, life happened. Work deadlines piled up, social engagements filled my calendar, and my well-intentioned plant care routine flew out the window faster than you can say “overwatering.”

    Lesson #1: Neglect Taught Me About Resilience

    I’m ashamed to admit it, but there were weeks when my poor plant didn’t see a single drop of water. Its once-vibrant leaves drooped, turning a sickly shade of yellow. I felt a pang of guilt, of course, but mostly, I felt like a failure.

    But then, something interesting happened. Just when I was about to give up and relegate my poor plant to the compost bin of forgotten dreams, I noticed something: a tiny green shoot emerging from the base. It was as if the plant was saying, “Hey, I’m still here! I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on me!”

    That’s when it hit me: even when neglected, even when we feel like we’re wilting under the pressures of life, there’s a resilience within us that can’t be extinguished. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of hope—a tiny green shoot—to remind us that we’re capable of bouncing back.

    Lesson #2: Houseplants (and Life) Thrive with Less Control

    After my near-death experience with my plant (sorry, buddy!), I decided to do some research. Turns out, overwatering is a rookie mistake. Who knew?

  • The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)


    We’ve all seen them—those infuriatingly chipper morning people who practically bounce out of bed, chirping about sunshine and productivity. I’m not one of them. I’m a card-carrying member of the Night Owls Association, where the motto is “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” (which, ironically, might be sooner than later if I keep up my nocturnal habits).

    But recently, seduced by promises of increased productivity, boundless energy, and maybe even the ability to make a decent breakfast for once, I decided to embark on a noble and possibly foolish quest: become a morning person.

    The Great Alarm Clock Standoff of 2023

    My first mistake, I now realize, was going all-in on day one. I set my alarm for 5:00 AM, a full three hours earlier than my usual wake-up time. I even downloaded one of those apps that makes you solve math problems to turn it off. (Let me tell you, nothing screams “I hate the world” like long division at the crack of dawn.)

    Yoga Fail: My Downward Dog Was More Like a Dying Walrus

    The internet, in all its infinite wisdom, assured me that the key to becoming a morning person was establishing a positive morning routine. So, naturally, I signed up for a 6:00 AM yoga class.

    Now, I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe some graceful stretching as the sun gently peeked over the horizon, bathing me in its golden rays. What I got was a dimly lit studio full of terrifyingly alert individuals who looked like they’d already run a marathon and filed their taxes before I even managed to get dressed.

  • The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The 5 AM Alarm Clock Debacle

    Let me set the scene: 4:58 AM. My alarm clock, which I had lovingly nicknamed “The Rooster” (due to its earsplitting crowing sound), decided to unleash its fury upon my peaceful slumber. Now, for most normal, functioning members of society, this would be a sign to rise and shine. For me, it was more akin to a horror movie jump scare.

    You see, I, my friends, am not a morning person. I’m more of a “let’s stay up late watching documentaries about the mating habits of deep-sea creatures” kind of person. But, like a moth to a flame (or perhaps more accurately, a zombie to brains), I was drawn to the seductive idea of becoming a morning person.

    tried it.

    The results were…mixed. I did manage to stay awake (for the most part), but I also developed a nervous twitch and an uncanny ability to hear colors.

  • The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)


    We’ve all seen them. Those mythical creatures who bound out of bed at the crack of dawn, chirping about sunshine and the promise of a fresh pot of coffee. They actually choose to exercise before the workday begins. These, my friends, are the morning people. And for a brief, shining moment, I thought I could be one of them.

    Operation: Rise and Shine (More Like Rise and Whine)

    My foray into the world of early rising began, ironically enough, in the dead of night. Scrolling through Pinterest at 2:00 AM, I stumbled upon countless infographics touting the benefits of waking up early: increased productivity, reduced stress levels, the ability to actually make a decent breakfast. I was sold.

    morning routine. This involved things like “meditation” (read: panicking about how little sleep I was getting) and “journaling” (scribbling incoherent sentences in the dark).

    The Yogurt Explosion: A Sign From the Universe?

    The first few days were rough. My brain felt like it was perpetually stuck in a fog bank, and I relied heavily on industrial-strength coffee to function. But then, something miraculous happened. One morning, I woke up before my alarm went off. I felt…dare I say…rested?

    Maybe, just maybe, I was becoming one of them.

    Fueled by this newfound sense of morning personhood, I decided to make a healthy breakfast. I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and…well, let’s just say I forgot that unopened yogurt containers have a tendency to explode when shaken vigorously.

  • The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)



    morning person!” I declare to my bewildered cat. Now, for anyone who knows me, this was a bold statement. I’m not just not a morning person; I’m practically allergic to mornings. My spirit animal is a grumpy sloth that just wants to be left alone until at least 10 AM.

    But this time felt different. This time, I was going to conquer the morning. I set my alarm for a horrifying 5 AM, visualized myself jogging at sunrise with a green smoothie in hand (delusional, I know), and drifted off to sleep, feeling strangely optimistic.

    Day 1: The Snooze Button Became My New Best Friend

    The first sign that things were going downhill was the sound of my alarm clock the next morning. Or rather, the sound of me violently swatting at it like a bear defending its cubs. After several rounds of this aggressive snooze button tango, I finally dragged myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6:45 AM.

    Remember that sunrise jog and green smoothie I envisioned? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Instead, I stumbled around my apartment like a zombie, tripping over furniture and mumbling obscenities at the coffee maker for not brewing fast enough.

    Morning Misadventures

    By day three, the novelty of my “new life” had worn off faster than a cheap pair of tights. My attempts to be productive before work mainly consisted of:

    1. Staring blankly at my computer screen while mentally writing strongly worded letters to the inventor of alarm clocks.
    2. Accidentally flipping off a cheerful jogger who had the audacity to smile at me while I was wrestling with my coffee thermos. Sorry, not sorry, Brenda, you should see the other guy (me).
    3. Daydreaming about all the glorious sleep I could be having if I just gave up on this whole “morning person” charade.
  • The Time I Tried to be a ‘Morning Person’ (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to be a ‘Morning Person’ (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    We’ve all seen them – those infuriatingly chipper morning people who practically skip out of bed with the sunrise, chirping about how “great it is to be up early!” Meanwhile, I’m usually peeling myself out of bed after hitting snooze for the tenth time, wondering if it’s socially acceptable to wear pajamas to work.

    The Pact (and My Unrealistic Expectations)

    My journey into the supposed utopia of early rising began, as most bad decisions do, with a conversation over coffee – well, more accurately, over my third cup of coffee while my friend, let’s call her Sunshine Sally, sipped her green smoothie.

    “You know,” Sally chirped, “You’d be so much more productive if you woke up early!”

    Thus began our pact. We’d both wake up at 6 am, go for a jog, and have a healthy breakfast. I even bought a juicer.

    person: energized, productive, and maybe even capable of making my own sourdough bread before work.

    Day 1: The Alarm Clock Becomes My Nemesis

    The first morning arrived, and my alarm clock (which I swear was judging me) blared its obnoxious wake-up call. I stumbled out of bed, feeling like I had just fallen asleep. My attempt at a “jog” resembled something closer to a zombie shuffle.

    Sally, naturally, was already back from her run, looking annoyingly refreshed. She greeted me with a perky, “Good morning! How was your run?”

    I mumbled something about “enjoying the fresh air” while mentally composing a strongly worded letter to the inventor of the alarm clock.

    Day 3: The Great Coffee Caper

    The next few days followed a similar pattern of sleep deprivation and failed attempts at athleticism. By day three, I was running on fumes and caffeine. I even resorted to hiding emergency coffee stashes around my apartment for those pre-dawn moments of desperation.

  • My Kitchen Catastrophe: The Time I Tried to Impress a Date with My (Non-Existent) Cooking Skills

    My Kitchen Catastrophe: The Time I Tried to Impress a Date with My (Non-Existent) Cooking Skills




    My Kitchen Catastrophe: The Time I Tried to Impress a Date with My (Non-Existent) Cooking Skills


    The Art of Deception (or Lack Thereof)

    We’ve all been there. That moment when you’re trying to impress someone new and you accidentally let slip a talent you definitely don’t possess. For me, it was cooking. You see, I’m a master of the microwave, a connoisseur of takeout menus, but a chef? Not so much. Yet, there I was, on a third date with the charming and witty Alex, promising a “home-cooked meal.” What was I thinking?

    Alex, ever the gentleman, jumped up to help, fanning the smoke detector with a dish towel while I frantically tried to salvage the charred remains of our dinner.

    Salvation in a Pizza Box: From Kitchen Fail to Funny Story

    With the kitchen looking like a battleground and the smell of burnt potatoes lingering in the air, I had to face the music. Defeated, I confessed my culinary shortcomings to Alex, who surprised me by bursting into laughter. “Don’t worry,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I know the best pizza place in town.” And just like that, our disastrous date took a turn for the better. We ended up ordering pizza, sharing stories, and laughing about my epic kitchen fail.