Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: Personal Essay

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me




    Are My Plants Judging Me? The Hilarious Reality of Plant Parent Paranoia


    The Side-Eye From a (Very) Dramatic Spider Plant

    It all started with a dramatic wilting. I’m talking theatrical, head-in-hands, Shakespearean levels of plant despair. My usually chipper spider plant, which I’d affectionately named Gerald, looked like I’d just canceled our beach vacation.

    “Okay, drama queen,” I muttered, grabbing my watering can. “Don’t tell me you need water again?”

    As I watered Gerald, I swear I felt his…disapproval. Like he was thinking, “Took you long enough, peasant.” From then on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gerald was judging my every move.

    plant equivalent of someone binge-watching reality TV in their pajamas.

    Then, my mother-in-law came to visit.

    Now, my mother-in-law is lovely. She really is. But let’s just say we have…differing opinions on houseplant care. She believes in a “more is more” approach to watering, while I’m a cautious optimist who’d rather underwater than overwater (sorry, Gerald!).

    So, imagine my surprise when Beatrice suddenly sprouted a new leaf during my mother-in-law’s visit. And not just any leaf – this thing was practically the size of Texas! It was almost as if Beatrice was showing off, whispering, “See? This is what happens when I’m properly cared for!”

    Coincidence? I think not.

    The Silent Treatment and Other Passive-Aggressive Plant Behaviors

    Since then, I’ve noticed a pattern of passive-aggressive behavior from my houseplants. A few highlights:

    • My cactus, Steve, who’s usually quite prickly (pun intended), suddenly bloomed the day after I finished cleaning the entire apartment.
    • My succulent collection, which I swear rearranges itself when I’m not looking, seems to thrive when I’m feeling stressed. It’s like they’re mocking my inability to relax.
    • And don’t even get me started on the silent treatment. One wrong move – say, forgetting to mist my ferns – and it’s radio silence from the entire plant gang.
  • The Day My Inner Voice Decided to Go Full British

    The Day My Inner Voice Decided to Go Full British




    The Day My Inner Voice Decided to Go Full British

    The Queen’s English Takes Over My Thoughts

    You know that little voice in your head? The one that narrates your life, offers unsolicited advice, and occasionally berates you for that last slice of pizza? Mine has always been a bit of a character. A touch sarcastic, prone to dramatics, but generally relatable. Until one Tuesday morning, when I woke up and it was speaking with a posh British accent.

    I was reaching for my trusty, old alarm clock (the digital one kept short-circuiting my dreams) when I heard it. Clear as day, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Benedict Cumberbatch after a strong cuppa announced, “Right then, time to rise and shine, you wouldn’t want to be late for the day, would you?”

    I froze. Had I accidentally downloaded a British language pack in my sleep? Was this some bizarre side effect of binge-watching “The Crown”? I cautiously responded, “Excuse me, who said that?”

    “Why, darling, it’s me! Your inner monologue, just with a spot of an upgrade,” the voice chirped back.

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

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




    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, when you catch a glimpse of your houseplant. You know, the one you swore you’d nurture, the one that was supposed to bring tranquility and life into your home? Yeah, that one. And in that moment, you swear it’s judging you.

    The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    It all started subtly. I’d be rushing out the door, late for work (again), and I’d catch a glimpse of my peace lily, Herbert, out of the corner of my eye. His leaves seemed to droop a little lower than usual, as if to say, “Another day, another missed watering, huh?”

    Herbert‘s pot had somehow swiveled on the windowsill. He was now facing me directly, and I swear, if plants could frown, he would have been giving me the mother of all disapproving looks.

    Silent Disapproval: The Case of the Crumbling Cookie

    The judgment only intensified from there. I’d find myself straightening up the apartment, suddenly self-conscious about the pile of laundry I’d been ignoring. “What would Herbert think?” my brain would whisper. “He thrives in an environment of order and good decisions!”

    Then there was the cookie incident. I may have, perhaps, indulged in a late-night snack and forgotten to sweep up a few errant crumbs. The next morning, I found a single, defiant leaf pointing directly at the mess. It was like a green, leafy finger wagging at my lack of discipline.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    My Thumb is More of a Gardening Black Hole

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, my apartment balcony is a graveyard of well-intentioned succulents and tragically misunderstood herbs. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a resilient little ZZ plant, known for its ability to survive even the most neglectful owners – I accepted with a mix of hope and trepidation. Little did I know, this unassuming plant would soon teach me more about life than I ever expected.

    plant parenting duties with the same gusto. I researched the perfect watering schedule, debated the merits of different fertilizers, and even considered playing Mozart to encourage growth (don’t judge!). However, my plant remained stubbornly unimpressed. It wasn’t until I, in a fit of forgetfulness, neglected it for a good two weeks that it finally started to thrive.

    Turns out, like humans, plants need space to breathe and grow at their own pace. The constant fussing and overwatering had actually been suffocating it. Who knew? My little green roommate taught me the valuable lesson of letting go, trusting the process, and embracing the beauty of simplicity.

    Lesson 2: Resilience is a Superpower

    One fateful (and very clumsy) day, I managed to knock my poor plant off its pedestal, sending a cascade of dirt and broken leaves across the living room floor. Mortified, I frantically tried to salvage the situation, but the damage seemed irreparable. I resigned myself to the fact that I had finally achieved the impossible – killing the unkillable plant.

    But, to my astonishment, after a few weeks of gentle care and a lot of apologies, my resilient little ZZ plant started to bounce back. New shoots emerged, stronger and more vibrant than before. It was a powerful reminder that even after setbacks and near-death experiences (well, near-plant-death experiences), we have the incredible capacity to heal, regrow, and come back stronger than ever.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the One Time I Broke Them All)

    The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the One Time I Broke Them All)

    The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and the One Time I Broke Them All)

    We’ve all been there. Packed in a metal box, hurtling upwards at an alarming speed, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with strangers. Yes, my friends, I’m talking about the wondrous social experiment that is the elevator.

    The Day the Elevator Music Died (and It Was My Fault)

    Now, I consider myself a fairly well-adjusted member of society. I hold doors open for people, I say please and thank you, and I even recycle (most of the time). But there’s something about elevators that turns me into a bumbling mess of social awkwardness.

    Take, for example, the time I single-handedly managed to break every unspoken rule of elevator etiquette. It all started innocently enough. I stepped into the elevator, joining a businessman furiously typing on his phone and a woman with a shopping bag that looked suspiciously like it contained a small dog (or maybe just a very fluffy loaf of bread, I wasn’t about to stare).

    I gave a polite nod – the universal elevator greeting – and turned to face the doors, just like the rulebook says. But then it happened. My stomach, in all its infinite wisdom, chose that precise moment to unleash a growl so loud and ferocious, it could have rivaled a bear waking up from hibernation.

    The Sound of Silence (and Intense Secondhand Embarrassment)

    The typing stopped. The shopping bag twitched. I swear I even heard the elevator music stutter for a second. The silence was deafening, punctuated only by the sound of my stomach continuing its symphony of digestion.

    I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Instead, I did what any reasonable person in my position would do: I pretended it wasn’t me. I subtly shifted my weight, hoping to transfer the blame to the man with the phone. He, of course, was far too engrossed in his emails to notice my plight. The woman with the bag, however, was now giving me the side-eye, her face a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

    Escaping the Iron (and Judgmental) Box

    The next few floors couldn’t pass quickly enough. Each ding of the bell was like a tiny hammer tapping on my coffin of shame. Finally, mercifully, we reached my floor. I practically leaped out of the elevator, muttering a hasty “Have a nice day!” over my shoulder.

    As the doors closed behind me, I could have sworn I heard stifled laughter. I slunk down the hallway, vowing to never make eye contact with anyone in an elevator ever again.

    What Other Elevator Etiquette Rules Are There?

    My disastrous elevator experience taught me a valuable lesson: some unspoken rules are best left unbroken. But it also got me thinking, what are some other universally acknowledged (yet rarely spoken) rules of elevator etiquette? And have you ever had an experience where you accidentally (or spectacularly) broke them? Share your stories in the comments below – I promise mine can’t be topped!

  • 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 Little Green Guru

    Okay, let’s be real, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. I’m the queen of forgetting to water, overwatering, and generally neglecting anything green and leafy. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant, I accepted with a smile and a silent prayer for the poor thing’s survival.

    I named him Percy (because why not?), found a sunny spot on my windowsill, and promptly… forgot about him. For weeks. I know, I know, terrible plant mom alert! But then, something unexpected happened. Percy, despite my best efforts to the contrary, thrived!

    Percy‘s ability to bounce back from my neglect was nothing short of miraculous. He went through phases of drooping, browning, and looking generally miserable. But each time, I’d remember my green companion (usually thanks to a gentle, “Um, isn’t that plant looking a little thirsty?” from my roommate) and give him a good watering.

    And guess what? He’d perk right back up! It was like he was saying, “No worries, friend! We all have our off days. A little H2O and I’m good to go!” Percy taught me that resilience isn’t about never falling down; it’s about having the strength to get back up, dust yourself off, and keep growing.

    Lesson #2: Sometimes, Less is More

    As I witnessed Percy’s resilience firsthand, I made a conscious effort to be a better plant parent. I’m talking research, people! I learned about proper watering techniques, the importance of drainage, and the magic of fertilizer. Armed with this newfound knowledge, I went from neglectful plant mom to, dare I say, a little overzealous.

    Cue the overwatering. Poor Percy, he couldn’t catch a break! It turns out, even with the best intentions, you can have too much of a good thing. Just like in life, constantly showering something (or someone) with attention and affection can be suffocating. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is step back, give them space to breathe, and let them flourish at their own pace.

  • 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


    We’ve all been there. You’re at the grocery store, minding your own business, when suddenly, you lock eyes. It’s not a celebrity, not a long-lost friend, but something… greener. Leafier. Maybe even a little bit… root-bound? Yes, my friends, I’m talking about the siren song of the discounted houseplant.

    How a Sad Little Fern Became My Life Coach

    My own journey into the unexpected world of plant-based wisdom began with a fern named Ferdinand. Now, I’m no botanist, but even I could tell Ferdinand had seen better days. He was wilting faster than my enthusiasm for doing the dishes, and yet, something about his droopy fronds called to me. “I can save him,” I thought, completely overestimating my nurturing abilities and conveniently forgetting my history of accidental plant homicide.

    Life Lessons According to Ferdinand, and trust me, this fern had a lot to say (metaphorically, of course, because, well, plants).

    Lesson #1: Life Lessons From a Fern: You Need Sunshine and Consistency

    Turns out, leaving Ferdinand in a dark corner and forgetting to water him for a week wasn’t the recipe for success I thought it would be. Who knew? (Don’t judge, I blame my plant-killing past). Ferdinand, bless his leafy heart, taught me the importance of consistency, not just in plant care, but in life. Just like we need sunshine, water, and good soil to thrive, we also need to nourish ourselves with healthy habits, positive relationships, and meaningful pursuits.

    Lesson #2: Just Like Plants, Growth Isn’t Always Obvious

    For weeks, it seemed like Ferdinand was stuck in a perpetual state of “meh.” No dramatic wilting, but no glorious growth spurts either. I was starting to lose hope, questioning my abilities as a plant parent (again). But then, one day, a tiny green shoot emerged, unfurling with the audacity of a seasoned yogi nailing a handstand. It was a small victory, easily missed if I wasn’t paying attention. Ferdinand, in his quiet, persistent way, reminded me that growth isn’t always linear or Instagram-worthy. Sometimes, the most significant changes happen beneath the surface, slowly but surely, until one day, BAM! Tiny fern frond handstand.

  • The Great Sock Drawer Mystery: An Epic Tale of Missing Matches

    The Great Sock Drawer Mystery: An Epic Tale of Missing Matches




    The Great Sock Drawer Mystery: An Epic Tale of Missing Matches

    A Tale as Old as Laundry Day: The Case of the Missing Socks

    We’ve all been there. You’re getting ready for the day, feeling good, maybe even humming a little tune. You reach into your sock drawer, a beacon of hope and freshly laundered possibilities, and then… BAM! Disaster. Your hand emerges, clutching a single, lonely sock. Its mate? Nowhere to be found.

    This, my friends, is a tragedy as old as time itself. Or, at least as old as the invention of the washing machine. And trust me, I’ve experienced my fair share of these sock-related heartbreaks. Just last week, my favorite pair of fuzzy socks went AWOL. Vanished without a trace. It was like they were never even knit into existence!

    Socks Go? Exploring the Theories

    So, what’s the deal? Where do all these missing socks go? Over the years, I’ve dedicated myself to unraveling this age-old mystery. I’ve consulted with experts (okay, maybe just Google), scoured ancient texts (Wikipedia counts, right?), and even conducted some highly scientific experiments (mostly just staring intently at my dryer).

    Here are just a few of the most compelling theories I’ve uncovered:

    1. The Parallel Universe Theory: This theory suggests that our missing socks are actually being transported to a parallel universe where everyone walks around with mismatched socks. I like to imagine it’s a much more colorful and whimsical place than our own.
    2. The Sock Gnomes: Legend has it that tiny, mischievous creatures known as Sock Gnomes live in our homes and steal our socks for nefarious purposes (like building tiny sock castles, perhaps?).
    3. The Black Hole Theory: Some believe that washing machines are actually portals to black holes that suck up socks and send them to the far reaches of the galaxy. Hey, it’s more likely than you think!

    The Mystery Continues: The Search for Missing Sock Answers

    While the truth remains elusive, I, for one, refuse to give up hope! I will continue to fight the good fight, pairing up my socks with unwavering determination and a healthy dose of skepticism towards any washing machine that hums a little too loudly.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and Why I Break Them All)

    The Unspoken Rules of Elevator Etiquette (and Why I Break Them All)





    My Hilarious Elevator Etiquette Fails

    Let’s be honest, elevators are weird. They’re these metal boxes of forced intimacy hurtling us through the air, all while we pretend we’re not crammed together like sardines on a budget airline. And the unspoken rules? Don’t even get me started.

    I vividly recall my first “elevator etiquette fail.” Fresh out of college and eager to impress at my new job, I stepped into the elevator, brimming with nervous energy. An older gentleman joined me. Silence. More silence. Then, a desperate attempt at conversation on my part that went down like a lead balloon. From that day forward, I was determined to crack the code of elevator etiquette, only to realize…it’s all a bit ridiculous.

    The Art of (Not) Pushing Elevator Buttons

    Rule number one of Elevator Club: Thou shalt master the art of the button. You know the drill. Someone timidly murmurs, “Floor 12, please?” and suddenly, you’re the designated button pusher, responsible for the hopes and dreams (and timely arrival) of everyone onboard.

    But here’s where I break the mold. I’m a firm believer in what I call “the preemptive strike.” The moment I step inside, I unleash a friendly, “Anyone need this one?” while hovering over a random button. The result? People are either highly amused or slightly terrified. Either way, it’s a win in my book.

  • The Great Phone Number Mix-Up of 2023 (And Why I Still Have That Goat Farmer on Speed Dial)

    The Great Phone Number Mix-Up of 2023 (And Why I Still Have That Goat Farmer on Speed Dial)

    Have you ever wished for a little more excitement in your life? Be careful what you wish for, my friends. My life was perfectly normal, filled with spreadsheets, grocery shopping, and the occasional Netflix binge, until one fateful Tuesday morning. That’s when my phone transformed into a direct line to… a goat farm?

    It all started with a text. “Morning! Agnes here. The alfalfa delivery is running late again. Can you give them a nudge?” Now, I know my fair share of people, but no Agnes, and certainly no one expecting an alfalfa delivery. This had to be a wrong number. I politely informed the sender, picturing a sweet, silver-haired Agnes shaking her fist at the sky.

    Then came the calls. First, a frantic woman asking if I had seen her prize-winning rooster, Bartholomew. Then, a gruff but friendly man inquiring about the best way to shear a particularly woolly alpaca. By lunchtime, I was an unofficial hotline for all things farm-related.

    Operation: Reclaim My Phone Number

    Clearly, something was amiss. After several fruitless calls to my mobile carrier (apparently, “mass phone number mix-up” wasn’t in their troubleshooting script), I decided to take matters into my own hands. I politely explained to every bewildered caller that I was not, in fact, a veterinarian, a sheep shearer, or an expert on building chicken coops.

    Most people were understanding, even amused by the situation. Some, however, were harder to convince. Like Bob, who called every hour on the hour for updates on his missing piglet, Penelope. (Spoiler alert: Penelope was found happily napping in the hayloft. I felt like a proud parent, despite having no idea what a piglet looked like at the time).

    Agnes and the Unexpected Friendship

    Through the chaos, one caller became a constant – you guessed it, Agnes. She was incredibly apologetic about the mix-up and even offered to bake me a batch of her famous goat cheese scones as compensation. How could I resist?

    We met at a charming little bakery in town (no goats in sight, thankfully!). Agnes turned out to be a force of nature – a woman who could wrangle a runaway sheep and bake a mean scone, all before breakfast. We talked for hours, about everything from the challenges of running a farm to our shared love for reality TV cooking shows.

    It’s been a few months since The Great Phone Number Mix-Up of 2023. The telecom company finally sorted things out, and my phone is back to its usual, non-agricultural self. But I still have Agnes on speed dial. We chat regularly, and I even visited her farm (adorable baby goats, you guys!).

    Could a Wrong Number Lead to Something Wonderful?

    Who knew a wrong number could lead to such an unexpected friendship? Have you ever experienced a similar case of mistaken identity that turned into something wonderful? Share your stories in the comments below!