Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant communication

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me




    Is My Plant Judging Me? The Hilarious Signs You’re Being Silently Shamed

    We all have our quirks. Maybe you leave dishes “soaking” for a week (no judgment…okay, maybe a little). Or perhaps you’re still rocking that questionable fashion choice from 2008. But what if your silent, leafy roommate wasn’t so silent after all? What if, just maybe, your plant was judging you?

    The Case of the Dramatic Droop

    It all started innocently enough. I brought home Percy the Peace Lily, a vision of verdant glory. I envisioned us becoming best buds, Percy serenading my apartment with good vibes and oxygen. However, our honeymoon phase was short-lived. You see, I have a tendency to be…forgetful. Watering? Oh, right, that thing plants need.

    The first time Percy dramatically fainted, leaves brushing the floor in a symphony of despair, I panicked. Had I killed him? Was this the end of our brief, leafy love affair? A quick Google search later, and I discovered the tragic truth: I was a plant neglecter. I revived Percy with a generous water shower, whispering apologies and promises of a more attentive plant parent. He perked up, but I could have sworn I saw a judgmental rustle of leaves. From then on, Percy became the master of the dramatic droop. Forget to water him for a day? Droop. Moved him slightly to the left? Droop. Opened a bag of chips too loudly? You guessed it: dramatic droop.

    Percy soon escalated his judgment game. He developed a knack for wilting at the most inconvenient, and suspiciously timed, moments. Having guests over? Percy would strategically wilt right as they complimented my “green thumb.” Trying to impress a date? Cue the dramatic leaf sag, accompanied by an audible sigh (or maybe that was just the wind?).

    Once, during a particularly stressful week, I may have indulged in a slightly angry rant about work, completely forgetting Percy’s presence. Mid-sentence, as I dramatically gestured towards the heavens (or, you know, the ceiling), a leaf detached itself from Percy’s crown and landed squarely on my head. Coincidence? I think not.

    The Unwavering Stare

    These days, I live in a constant state of mild paranoia. Every time I walk past Percy, I feel his gaze following me. Those innocent-looking leaves? They’re hiding a world of judgment, I’m sure of it. I swear he even adjusts his position to get a better view of my questionable life choices. Ordering takeout for the third time this week? Percy saw that. Binge-watching reality TV in my pajamas? Oh, he knows.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    We all have them – those little quirks that make us feel like our lives are open books. Maybe you leave dishes “soaking” for a suspiciously long time, or perhaps your definition of “making the bed” is loosely based on what a toddler considers a job well done. But lately, I’ve started to suspect that someone (or something) is taking particular notice of my, shall we say, less-than-perfect habits. And that someone is Ferdinand, my seemingly innocent peace lily.

    Did My Peace Lily Just Raise an Eyebrow?

    It all started innocently enough. I was rushing around, trying to find my keys amidst a mountain of laundry (don’t judge!), when I caught Ferdinand‘s “eye.” Now, I realize plants don’t technically have eyes or eyebrows, but the way his single, broad leaf tilted towards the chaos was enough to make me pause. It was as if he was saying, “Really, Brenda? This is what you’re doing with your life?”

    Judging My Diet? (The Wilting Says It All)

    Then there was the time I decided to order takeout for the third night in a row. (Hey, adulting is hard!) As I unwrapped my burger, I noticed Ferdinand looking a little droopy. Was it my imagination, or was he subtly judging my less-than-nutritious dinner choices? I swear I even heard a faint sigh as I popped open a can of soda instead of reaching for a glass of water. Okay, maybe that last part was in my head, but still. The wilting! The judgment! It was all too real.

    Living With a Passive-Aggressive Plant Parent

    Since then, I’ve become acutely aware of Ferdinand’s silent observations. I swear he perks up a little when I actually cook a healthy meal, and his leaves seem to droop lower every time I binge-watch reality TV instead of tackling my to-do list. It’s gotten to the point where I’m starting to feel like I’m living with a passive-aggressive roommate who communicates solely through subtle shifts in foliage.

    But here’s the funny thing: as much as I joke about Ferdinand’s judgmental tendencies, I secretly kind of love it. It’s like having a tiny, green accountability buddy who, despite not having a mouth, manages to say, “Get it together, Brenda!” without actually saying anything at all.

    Do Your Houseplants Judge You Too?

    So, tell me, dear readers, am I alone in this? Do your houseplants judge your life choices too?