Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: lifestyle

  • The Unexpected Perks of Living Life on the Fence (and How to Maybe, Possibly, Enjoy Them)

    The Unexpected Perks of Living Life on the Fence (and How to Maybe, Possibly, Enjoy Them)




    The Unexpected Perks of Living Life on the Fence (and How to Maybe, Possibly, Enjoy Them)

    Paralyzed by Pizza Toppings: Sound Familiar?

    Raise your hand if you’ve ever spent an absurd amount of time staring at a menu, utterly paralyzed by the sheer number of choices. Yep, that’s me, waving frantically from the back corner table, still debating between the margherita and the pepperoni while everyone else is halfway through their appetizers.

    indecisive is like having a built-in procrastination button that gets smashed on repeat, especially when faced with, well, any decision. But what if I told you there’s a silver lining to this whole “perpetually undecided” thing? What if, just maybe, there are some unexpected benefits to being the friend who takes forever to pick a restaurant?

    The Upside of Indecision: Why We Make Excellent Planners

    Here’s the thing: chronically indecisive people aren’t afraid of thinking things through. In fact, we excel at it! We’re the masters of weighing pros and cons, considering every possible outcome (no matter how outlandish), and meticulously researching every. single. option.

    This means that while we might take longer to arrive at a decision, we’re less likely to make rash choices. We’re the friends you want helping you plan a trip because you know we’ve already scoped out the best restaurants, mapped out alternative routes, and packed for every possible weather scenario (including a surprise snowstorm in July, just in case).

    Indecision Breeds Empathy (and Open-Mindedness)

    Indecisive people are rarely quick to judge. Why? Because we understand the struggle! We know what it’s like to be torn between different options, to see the merits in opposing viewpoints. This makes us incredibly empathetic listeners and friends. We’re the ones who will patiently hear out both sides of your story, offering a non-judgmental ear and a comforting, “Yeah, that’s tough. I totally get it.”

    We’re also the queens and kings of seeing the hidden potential in things (and people!). That vintage lamp with the wonky shade? We see its retro charm. Your friend’s new, slightly eccentric hobby? We’re fascinated and eager to learn more. We embrace the unconventional, the quirky, the things that make life interesting.

    Taming the Indecision Beast: Tips for Finding Your Way

    Look, I get it. Being chronically indecisive can be frustrating, both for us and the people we love. But instead of viewing it as a flaw, let’s reframe it as a unique quirk, a different way of approaching the world. Here are a few tips that have helped this lifelong fence-sitter:

    • Set time limits for decisions. Give yourself a reasonable amount of time to weigh your options, then pick one and move on. Don’t dwell on it!
    • Embrace the “good enough” choice. Not every decision requires hours of deliberation. Sometimes, “good enough” really is good enough.
    • Focus on the process, not just the outcome. Celebrate the fact that you’re a thoughtful person who considers things carefully. That’s a strength!

    And hey, if all else fails, just flip a coin. You know you’ve considered both sides thoroughly enough by now, right?

    Embrace Your Inner Waffler: What Are Your Indecisive Superpowers?

    Being chronically indecisive might not always be easy, but it definitely comes with its own set of unexpected advantages. What are some of the ways your indecisiveness has actually benefited you? Share your stories in the comments below!

  • 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 How I Failed)

    My best friend, Sarah, is one of those annoyingly perky morning people. You know the type: bounces out of bed at the crack of dawn, chirps about “seizing the day,” and somehow looks effortlessly put together while I’m still wiping sleep from my eyes. So, when she challenged me to join her 5:00 AM workout club for a week, I, in a moment of temporary insanity, agreed.

    “It’ll be life-changing!” she promised, her eyes sparkling with the zeal of a thousand suns.

    “Sure, sure,” I mumbled, already picturing myself hitting the snooze button approximately seven times.

    sleep.

    Let’s just say the workout was less “invigorating morning routine” and more “stumbling around the gym like a zombie.” Sarah, naturally, was a vision of energy and grace. I’m pretty sure I saw her bench-pressing a small elephant at one point.

    The Accidental Nap Debacle

    Days two and three followed a similar pattern of snoozing, groaning, and generally feeling like I was betraying my nocturnal nature. By day four, I was exhausted. Not the kind of tired that makes you sleep soundly, mind you, but the kind that makes you feel like you’re in a constant state of low-grade delirium.

    And that’s how I ended up taking an accidental nap…on the bus…on the way to work.

    Yes, you read that right. I nodded off, slumped against the window, and woke up to a kindly old lady offering me a cough drop. (To this day, I maintain that she thought I was ill and not just sleep-deprived.) The experience was both mortifying and a testament to my utter failure to become a morning person.

  • The Art of the Fashionably Late Arrival

    The Art of the Fashionably Late Arrival




    The Art of the Fashionably Late Arrival

    The Day I Embraced My Inner Clock-Challenged Diva

    Picture this: It’s my best friend’s birthday dinner, and I’m running through the restaurant, mascara smudged, hair resembling a bird’s nest, apologizing profusely. As I slide into my seat, twenty minutes late, breathless and disheveled, everyone else is calmly sipping their wine, engaged in relaxed conversation. That’s when it hit me – they all looked fantastic, and I looked like I’d wrestled a raccoon. And you know what? They seemed… happy to see me.

    late” – because honestly, haven’t we all earned the right to arrive with a little flair?

    The Unexpected Perks of Being Fashionably Late

    Here’s the thing: being “fashionably late” isn’t about disrespecting other people’s time. It’s about understanding the delicate balance between making an entrance and orchestrating a perfectly timed dramatic pause. It’s about the anticipation, the build-up, the “Where IS she?” whispers that culminate in the grand reveal. Okay, maybe I’m being a tad dramatic. But there are some genuine perks to this lifestyle choice:

    Benefit #1: The Calm After the Storm

    Arriving slightly after the scheduled time often means sidestepping the initial chaos. Think cocktail parties where everyone’s still awkwardly finding their footing or meetings where the small talk hasn’t quite gotten off the ground. You glide in, a vision of serenity, and effortlessly become the center of attention.

    Benefit #2: The Master of Making an Entrance

    Let’s be honest, there’s a certain thrill to arriving fashionably late. All eyes turn to you, a hush falls over the room, and for a fleeting moment, you are the star of the show. It’s a confidence boost disguised as a social faux pas.

    Benefit #3: The Gift of Perspective

    Being slightly removed from the initial frenzy allows you to observe and assess the situation with a fresh perspective. You can gauge the mood, identify key players, and craft the perfect entrance line. It’s like walking onto a stage with a pre-written script – you’re already one step ahead.

    Confessions of a Chronically Unpunctual (But Lovable) Friend

    Now, before you brand me as the queen of inconsiderate behavior, let me assure you, I have rules. First and foremost, I’m fiercely loyal to my friends. Need someone to pick you up from the airport at 3 am? I’m your girl. Important work deadline? Consider it done, ahead of schedule. But ask me to show up for brunch at 11 am sharp? Well, that’s where things get a little… flexible.

    I’ve learned to embrace the humor in my tardiness. I once showed up late to a Halloween party dressed as a “Fashionably Late Fairy” – complete with a clock necklace permanently stuck at 12:15. It was a hit!

  • 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 Brown Thumb Gets a Green Roommate

    We’ve all been there—staring longingly at those Pinterest-worthy apartments adorned with flourishing fiddle leaf figs and cascading pothos, thinking, “I could do that.” Well, I’m here to tell you, dear reader, that for some of us, plant parenthood is less of a whimsical dream and more of a comedic struggle.

    My journey started innocently enough. I adopted a peace lily named Percy (don’t judge, I’m a sucker for alliteration). He was supposed to be the low-maintenance gateway plant to my future urban jungle. However, Percy quickly disabused me of that notion. He drooped, he browned, he basically threw a leafy tantrum every time I looked at him the wrong way. I was convinced he hated me.

    Percy like my long-lost best friend. I showered him with attention, and by attention, I mean water. Lots and lots of water. I figured if a little H2O was good, a lot must be better, right? Wrong.

    Turns out, Percy wasn’t dramatic, just over-hydrated. Once I swapped my daily deluge for a more measured approach (read: actually checking the soil moisture), he perked up considerably. Who knew plants needed space to breathe? (Well, not literally breathe, but you get the point.) This taught me a valuable lesson about overdoing it. Sometimes the best approach is a gentler one, whether it’s with plants, relationships, or that extra slice of cheesecake.

    Lesson #2: Don’t Give Up on Your Roots, Even When Life Gets Rocky

    Just when I thought Percy and I had reached an understanding, tragedy struck. I accidentally knocked him off the windowsill, sending terracotta pot and poor Percy flying. I was horrified. Not only was my plant-parenting pride wounded, but Percy was now sporting a fractured pot and a severe lean.

    I was ready to toss in the (gardening) towel, but then I noticed something. Even though he was bruised and battered, Percy was still clinging on. So, I repotted him, gave him some extra TLC, and wouldn’t you know it, he bounced back stronger than ever. Seeing him thrive after a near-death experience reminded me that resilience is key. Even when we stumble and fall, it’s important to dust ourselves off and keep growing.

  • The Time I Tried to Live Like a Minimalist (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Live Like a Minimalist (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to Live Like a Minimalist (and Failed Spectacularly)


    The Great Decluttering Disaster of 2023

    It all started, as these things often do, with an Instagram rabbit hole. One minute I was admiring a travel blogger’s envy-inducing feed, filled with pristine beaches and minimalist bungalows, the next I was knee-deep in articles about capsule wardrobes and the life-changing magic of tidying up. “I could do that,” I thought, gazing around my apartment that more closely resembled a hoarder’s paradise than a serene sanctuary.

    Armed with nothing but good intentions (and maybe a touch of delusion), I embarked on my minimalist journey. What could possibly go wrong?

    The Case of the Missing Spatula (and Other Kitchen Nightmares)

    My first target? The kitchen. I ruthlessly purged expired spices, donated mismatched mugs I’d been inexplicably hoarding, and even parted ways with my beloved garlic press (minimalists apparently don’t believe in single-use gadgets). The result? A beautifully organized, sparkling clean kitchen… that was missing a spatula.

    You see, in my zeal to embrace minimalism, I’d mistakenly thrown out my only spatula, mistaking it for a superfluous utensil. I mean, who needs a spatula when you have a wooden spoon, right? (Spoiler alert: everyone). The next morning, as I desperately tried to flip my morning omelet with a fork, I realized the error of my ways.