Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: Personal Essay

  • The Weirdest Thing I’ve Ever Won (And What It Says About Me)

    The Weirdest Thing I’ve Ever Won (And What It Says About Me)

    The Weirdest Things I’ve Ever Won (And What They Say About Me)

    Life is full of surprises. That’s a good thing, right? Sure, until you find yourself holding a winning raffle ticket… for a prize you don’t want. From a year’s supply of sauerkraut to a taxidermied squirrel, join me as I recount the strange prizes I’ve won and what they might reveal about my personality.

    Life is Full of Surprises (and So Are Raffle Baskets)

    We’ve all been there, standing awkwardly at company picnics or school fundraisers, clutching a flimsy raffle ticket and hoping against hope that our number gets called. Most of the time, we walk away empty-handed, maybe with a slightly bruised ego and a renewed appreciation for the law of averages. But sometimes, just sometimes, the raffle gods smile upon us. And then, well, sometimes they hand you a taxidermied squirrel wearing a tiny cowboy hat.

    That, my friends, is how I ended up winning the weirdest prize of my life. But before we delve into the furry, beady-eyed details of that fateful day, let’s rewind a bit. Because, as it turns out, my history with bizarre winnings is more extensive than I’d care to admit. And you know what they say—if you’re going to be bad at something, be memorably bad.

    A Year’s Supply of…Sauerkraut?

    It all started innocently enough. I was at a local food festival, lured in by the promise of deep-fried Oreos and live polka music. (Judge me if you must, but that’s my kind of Saturday.) As I wandered past booths overflowing with handcrafted soaps and artisanal cheeses, a sign caught my eye: “Win a Year’s Supply of Sauerkraut!”

    Now, I’m not opposed to sauerkraut. In fact, I consider it a perfectly acceptable condiment on a hot dog or Reuben sandwich. But a year’s supply? That seemed a bit…ambitious. Still, the competitive spirit in me (fueled by one too many deep-fried Oreos) kicked in, and before I knew it, I was filling out an entry form.

    You can guess what happened next. Weeks later, a very large, very heavy box arrived at my doorstep. Inside? You guessed it—enough sauerkraut to last me well into the next decade. My family was horrified. My friends thought it was hilarious. And me? I learned a valuable lesson that day: never underestimate the power of impulse decisions made on a full stomach.

    The Curious Case of the Taxidermied Cowboy Squirrel

    Fast forward a few years, and we arrive at the aforementioned squirrel incident. It was a silent auction at my niece’s elementary school, and the prize in question was…well, it was a sight to behold. Perched on a piece of driftwood, sporting a miniature cowboy hat and a look of perpetual surprise, was the most unsettlingly lifelike taxidermied squirrel I had ever seen.

    I won’t bore you with the details of how my “winning” bid came to be. Let’s just say it involved a miscommunication, a generous aunt, and a healthy dose of liquid courage. The point is, I was now the proud owner of a taxidermied squirrel named Buckaroo Bob (don’t ask).

    Buckaroo Bob now resides on my bookshelf, a constant reminder of my questionable decision-making skills and the bizarre twists and turns that life can take. He’s become something of a conversation starter, though I’m not sure it’s always for the right reasons.

    What Does It All Mean?

    So, what do these strange winnings say about me? Am I a glutton for punishment? A magnet for the absurd? Or maybe, just maybe, I’m simply someone who embraces the unexpected, even when it comes in the form of fermented cabbage or taxidermied rodents.

    What about you? What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever won, and what do you think it says about you? Share your stories in the comments below!

  • Confessions of a Chronic Over-Packer (And How I’m Trying to Reform)

    Confessions of a Chronic Over-Packer (And How I’m Trying to Reform)

    Hey fellow travel enthusiasts! Let’s be honest, packing can be a real rollercoaster of emotions. The excitement of planning, the thrill of picking out outfits, and then… the inevitable meltdown when you realize your suitcase has somehow morphed into a beached whale.

    My Suitcase Runneth Over (and Over Again)

    I’ll admit it – I’m a recovering over-packer. My philosophy used to be “pack for every possible scenario,” which, as you can imagine, resulted in some truly comical situations. Like the time I went on a weekend trip with enough clothes for a month-long expedition, or when I lugged a giant hairdryer to a tropical island (humidity, who?).

    My “packing paralysis” reached its peak on a recent trip to Italy. Picture this: me, sweating profusely, trying to cram a mountain of clothes, shoes, and “just in case” items into my suitcase. The zipper refused to budge. I sat on it, I jumped on it, I even considered bribing it with gelato. Nothing worked.

  • 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


    From Green Thumb to Green Paranoia

    I used to think I had a green thumb. My windowsills overflowed with vibrant succulents, dramatic ferns, and even the occasional, surprisingly resilient orchid. I whispered words of encouragement to my leafy companions, celebrated new growth like a proud parent, and generally considered myself a friend to all flora. But lately, something has changed. My once peaceful plant haven has become a source of low-key anxiety. Why? Because I swear, one of my houseplants is judging me.

    plant lady starter pack, right? But hear me out. Agnes is a drama queen. One day, she’s basking in the sunlight, leaves practically shimmering with gratitude for my care. The next? She’s wilting like a Victorian child who just heard a mildly inappropriate joke. And the worst part? I can’t figure out why! I water her on schedule, mist her leaves, even serenade her with early 2000s pop (don’t judge, she seems to like it). Yet, there she’ll be, drooping dramatically, throwing me the most obvious side-eye over her lush, green shoulder. It’s as if she’s saying, “Really, Susan? This is the best you can do?”

    Exhibit B: My Houseplant Hates Me, But Loves My Other Plants

    To make matters worse, Agnes isn’t my only plant. Oh no, I have a whole botanical jury assembled on my windowsill. And while Agnes is busy judging my every horticultural decision, the rest of them are thriving. My peace lily is practically throwing out new blooms every week. The succulents are plump and content. Even the notoriously finicky air plant is clinging to life with an almost aggressive enthusiasm. It’s like they’re all in cahoots, silently whispering amongst themselves:

    • “Did you see Susan forget to rotate the ZZ plant again?”
    • “Honestly, the nerve of some people, thinking they can just bring us home and neglect basic plant care.”
    • “At least she got the humidity levels right this time. Baby steps, darling, baby steps.”

    I’m telling you, the judgment is real. I can feel it in the rustling of their leaves, the subtle tilt of their stems, the way they seem to collectively hold their breath whenever I walk into the room.

    Judging Me?

    Look, maybe I’m being a little paranoid. Maybe I’m projecting my own insecurities about being a “plant parent” onto my leafy roommates. Or maybe, just maybe, my houseplants are silently judging my every move. What do you think? Do your plants judge you too?


  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Green Cult)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Green Cult)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. A few years ago, if you’d told me I’d be the proud parent of a thriving jungle of houseplants, I would have laughed (and then probably accidentally killed a succulent with too much love). I was the ultimate plant killer, leaving a trail of crispy leaves and wilted stems in my wake. But something changed. Maybe it was a global pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe (just maybe) it was the undeniable allure of those cute little monstera leaves on Instagram. Whatever it was, I took the plunge, and let me tell you, the transformation has been remarkable.

    Plant Parenthood

    Here’s the thing about plants – they give back way more than they take. Sure, you gotta water them occasionally (and by occasionally, I mean definitely set reminders on your phone because you will forget), but the benefits far outweigh the minimal effort.

    Stress-Busting Green Therapy

    Remember that feeling of zen-like calm you experience when surrounded by nature? Turns out, you can recreate that in your very own living room! Caring for plants is surprisingly therapeutic. The simple act of watering, repotting, or even just admiring their growth can melt away stress and anxiety. Plus, studies have shown that being around plants can actually lower blood pressure and boost your mood. Who needs a therapist when you have a fiddle-leaf fig, am I right?

    Insta-Worthy Home Decor (On a Budget)

    Let’s face it, plants are the ultimate home decor hack. They add life, color, and texture to any space without breaking the bank. A strategically placed snake plant can instantly elevate your bookshelf game, while a trailing pothos can turn a boring corner into a green oasis. Plus, unlike that expensive designer chair you’ve been eyeing, plants actually appreciate in value (and size!) over time. Talk about a worthwhile investment!

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (Or, Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (Or, Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent)




    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (Or, Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, friends, let’s get real. I used to be the queen of killing plants. Seriously, I’m pretty sure I could wilt a cactus just by looking at it. My track record was so bad that even my fake succulents started to look nervous around me.

    But then something magical happened. I adopted a sad-looking little fern from the clearance shelf at the grocery store. Don’t ask me why – maybe it was pity, maybe it was a desperate attempt to prove myself wrong. Whatever the reason, I named him Ferdinand, and something shifted inside me. I was determined to keep this fern alive.

    plant parent isn’t just about keeping something alive, it’s about cultivating life, creating a connection, and experiencing the pure joy of watching something flourish under your care.

    Plus, let’s be honest, there’s something incredibly satisfying about keeping a plant alive longer than your last relationship (too soon?).

    Beyond Bragging Rights: Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    As my plant family grew (yes, Ferdinand needed some leafy companions), I discovered a whole slew of unexpected perks:

    • Stress relief: Forget the meditation app, repotting a plant is my new zen. Seriously, there’s something incredibly therapeutic about digging in the dirt and nurturing something beautiful.
    • Home décor upgrade: Plants are like nature’s confetti! They instantly brighten up any room and make it feel more welcoming. Plus, they’re way more affordable than that fancy throw pillow you’ve been eyeing.
    • Conversation starters: Plants are the perfect icebreakers. “Oh, you like my monstera? Let me tell you all about her dramatic leaf transformations!”
    • Improved air quality: Okay, this one’s a no-brainer, but plants are like little air-purifying ninjas! They absorb toxins and release oxygen, making your home a healthier and happier place to be.
  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    My Descent into Accidental Plant Parenthood

    Let’s be honest, before last year, my thumbs were about as brown as my morning coffee. The only thing I’d successfully grown was a healthy crop of dust bunnies under the couch. But then, a well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a cute little succulent named Steve (yes, I name my plants, don’t judge!).

    “He’s low-maintenance,” she assured me, “practically thrives on neglect!” Famous last words.

    Even Low-Maintenance Friendships Need Nurturing

    Turns out, even succulents have standards. Who knew? I, in my infinite wisdom, took “low-maintenance” to mean “no-maintenance.” I’m talking weeks without a drop of water, zero sunlight (poor Steve resided in a dark corner because, aesthetics, duh!), and absolutely no conversation (do plants even like jazz?).

    Naturally, Steve staged a silent protest. His once-plump leaves started to resemble tiny, wrinkly fingers. He was basically a grumpy, miniature cactus giving me the side-eye. That’s when I realized, even low-maintenance relationships require effort. Just like we nurture our friendships with check-ins and shared experiences, plants, in their own silent way, need our attention and care.

    Lesson #2: Resilience is a Beautiful Thing (Especially for Houseplants)

    Determined to redeem myself (and save Steve from a tragic, crispy fate), I did my research. I learned about proper watering techniques (apparently, drowning is a thing!), the importance of sunlight (who knew!), and even invested in some plant food (turns out, Steve is a foodie!).

    And guess what? He rallied! Slowly but surely, Steve perked up. His leaves plumped, new growth emerged, and he even gifted me with a tiny, adorable flower. It was a powerful reminder that even after setbacks, even when we feel neglected or wilted, with a little care and attention, we can bounce back stronger than ever.

  • The Unexpected Joy of Missing My Train (And What I Learned From It)

    The Unexpected Joy of Missing My Train (And What I Learned From It)

    The Day My Train Left Without Me

    We’ve all been there. That heart-stopping moment when you see your train pulling away, leaving you stranded on the platform with nothing but the faint smell of diesel fumes and a healthy dose of regret. Just last week, this was me. I was running late, frantically trying to locate my train ticket in the depths of my overstuffed bag, when the doors closed with a hiss and the train began to move. My heart sank. “Great,” I thought, “just great. This is going to be a disaster.”

    Coffee Shop)

    But then, something strange happened. As I watched the tail lights disappear into the distance, a wave of unexpected calm washed over me. The world didn’t end because I missed my train. In fact, the world seemed to keep spinning quite happily without me on that particular mode of transport.

    With a newfound sense of freedom, I decided to make the most of my predicament. I spotted a cute little coffee shop across the street, the kind I always tell myself I’ll try but never do. Today, fate had intervened. I ordered a cappuccino and a delicious-looking pastry, settled into a comfy armchair by the window, and pulled out a book I’d been meaning to start. The sun streamed through the windows, the coffee was divine, and the world seemed to slow down.

  • The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices

    The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices




    We all know that plants need sunlight, water, and the occasional pep talk to thrive. But what about judgment? Can our leafy roommates actually sense our questionable life choices? I’m starting to think so.

    When My Plant Side-Eyed My Takeout Habit

    It all started innocently enough. I was unpacking my third takeout container of the week, the smell of greasy noodles wafting through my apartment. As I shamelessly dug in, I caught a glimpse of Oswald, my peace lily, out of the corner of my eye.

    Oswald is usually a pretty chill dude. He enjoys basking in the sunlight streaming through my window and tolerates my sporadic watering schedule. But on this particular evening, something was different. His usually perky leaves drooped lower than usual, and I swear he was angled away from me. Was he…disappointed?

    Okay, I know. It sounds crazy. But the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became. Oswald had borne silent witness to my descent into takeout hell. He’d seen the empty wine bottles (plural) next to the recycling bin, the mounting pile of laundry in the corner, and my complete inability to fold a fitted sheet.

    Suddenly, I felt like a teenager whose mom had just caught them sneaking in after curfew. Except, my mom was a leafy green plant with an uncanny ability to make me feel incredibly judged.

    The Case for Plant Judgment: The Great Repotting Debacle of 2023

    My suspicions about Oswald’s judgment were only fueled by subsequent events. Like the Great Repotting Debacle of 2023, for example.

    Armed with the best intentions (and a YouTube tutorial), I decided to repot my poor, rootbound friend. I envisioned a beautiful, zen-like experience. In reality, it was more like a scene from a gardening horror film.

    I’m talking spilled soil coating the floor, a broken pot (RIP, favorite ceramic), and me accidentally snapping off one of Oswald’s prized leaves. (Don’t worry, I gave him a plant bandaid. They’re a thing, right?)

  • My Phone Charger: A Modern Greek Tragedy (and Other Tales of Tech Treachery)

    My Phone Charger: A Modern Greek Tragedy (and Other Tales of Tech Treachery)

    My Phone Charger: A Modern Greek Tragedy (and Other Tales of Tech Treachery)

    phone chargers to outsmarting autocorrect’s questionable vocabulary.

    The Neverending Struggle with Phone Chargers

    We’ve all been there. That moment of panic when your phone screen dims to black, displaying the dreaded low battery symbol. You frantically search for your charger, only to find it tangled in a knot worthy of Houdini himself.

    Just me? Okay, maybe it’s not a universal experience, but my phone charger and I have a love-hate relationship that would make even the most dramatic reality show jealous. It’s a constant battle of wills, and let’s just say, the charger usually wins.

    The Case of the Vanishing Wifi

    Of course, my technological woes don’t stop at a tangled charger. Oh no, that would be far too simple. There’s also the mysterious case of the vanishing wifi. You know what I’m talking about. You’re in the middle of something incredibly important – an online meeting, a tense game of Wordscapes, watching the climax of your favorite show – and BAM! The internet decides to take an unannounced vacation.

    Cue the frantic restarting of the router, the desperate pleas to the wifi gods, and the inevitable descent into mild panic. And then, just as suddenly as it disappeared, the internet returns, leaving you blinking at the screen in disbelief, wondering if it was all a strange dream.

    Autocorrect: Friend or Foe?

    And let’s not forget everyone’s favorite technological frenemy: autocorrect. This little feature is like that well-meaning but slightly clueless friend who always manages to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

    I’m sure we all have a collection of hilarious autocorrect fails. Like the time I tried to text my friend “I’m on my way!” but autocorrect, in its infinite wisdom, decided “I’m on my walrus!” was a more appropriate message.

    Or the time it changed “Let’s grab coffee” to “Let’s grab crocodiles.” (Honestly, who even talks about crocodiles that much?)

    Autocorrect, I appreciate the effort, but sometimes you’re just making things weird.

    The Tech Struggle Is Real, But So Is the Laughter

    So, there you have it, a glimpse into the chaotic world of my technological misadventures. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like they’re engaged in a constant battle with their devices. But you know what? As frustrating as these tech fails can be, they also provide endless fodder for laughter and stories to tell.

    What about you? What’s your most hilarious tale of technology gone rogue? Share your stories in the comments below because misery loves company, and laughter is always the best tech support!

  • The Unspoken Rules of Grocery Store Etiquette (And Why I Break Every Single One)

    The Unspoken Rules of Grocery Store Etiquette (And Why I Break Every Single One)



    My Cart, My Chaos: Embracing Grocery Shopping Anarchy

    Okay, picture this: It’s 7 p.m. on a Tuesday, the witching hour between work and dinner. I’m at the grocery store, famished, and my shopping list is a sad collection of scribbles on the back of a receipt. I’m pretty sure “bananas?” is on there somewhere.

    We’ve all been there, right? But here’s where my story veers off the well-paved path of grocery store decorum. You see, I’m that person. The one whose cart is a chaotic jumble of produce, toiletries, and a rogue bag of gummy bears (don’t judge). I’m a walking, talking violation of every unspoken grocery store rule, and frankly, I’m not sure I care.

    grocery shopping: going the wrong way down a one-way aisle. Oh, the shame! The glares! The passive-aggressive throat-clearing!

    Listen, I get it. Efficiency is important. But sometimes, you just need that jar of olives from the top shelf, and the thought of navigating an entire loop of the store feels like climbing Mount Everest with a shopping cart. So, I break the rules. I smile apologetically, I execute a graceful (or maybe not-so-graceful) three-point turn, and I grab my olives. Because life’s too short for aisle-induced anxiety, am I right?

    The Siren Song of Free Samples: My Grocery Store Weakness

    Ah, samples. Those tiny, tempting morsels of culinary delight strategically placed to lure us in like moths to a flame. We all know the rules: one per person, maybe two if you’re feeling bold. But me? I have the self-control of a toddler in a candy store.

    Mini quiches? Yes, please! Tiny cups of mango salsa? Don’t mind if I do! I’m pretty sure I’ve single-handedly kept the sample lady employed on more than one occasion. Is it wrong? Probably. Do I regret it? Not even a little bit. (Okay, maybe a little bit when my stomach starts making questionable noises.)