Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant drama

  • 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 Was Real

    I swear it started with a side-eye. You know, that subtle yet unmistakable tilt of the head that says, “Seriously? You’re doing that again?” Except, it wasn’t my roommate or significant other giving me the look—it was Herbert, my peace lily.

    Okay, maybe I was projecting a little. It’s not like Herbert has eyes, let alone the capacity for judgment… right? And yet, ever since I adopted this leafy green companion, I’ve felt a distinct shift in our dynamic—one where I’m pretty sure I’m the one under scrutiny.

    know the kind—deadlines looming, laundry piling up, existential dread creeping in. I plopped down on the couch, microwaved some questionable leftovers, and proceeded to wallow in my own self-pity.

    That’s when I noticed it. Herbert, usually a beacon of verdant glory, was drooping. I’m not talking about a gentle lean—this was a full-on theatrical wilt, leaves practically kissing the floor. Naturally, I panicked. Had I forgotten to water him? Was he getting too much sun? Was this the plant equivalent of a dramatic sigh?

    Turns out, I had overwatered him. As I diligently sopped up the excess water, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Herbert was sending a message: “Get it together, human. This pity party is so two weeks ago.”

    Exhibit B: The Flourishing Success

    But here’s the thing that really seals the deal. Remember that deadline I mentioned? Well, I powered through it. Fueled by caffeine and sheer determination, I finished the project a day early, even impressing my notoriously hard-to-please boss.

    Basking in the glow of accomplishment (and maybe that extra shot of espresso), I glanced over at Herbert. And wouldn’t you know it, the little guy was practically glowing. His leaves were perky, his color vibrant, practically radiating an aura of “See? I knew you could do it.”

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent




    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    My Brown Thumb Redemption Arc (Or So I Thought)

    Remember that time I swore off plants because I accidentally murdered a cactus? Yeah, well, past me clearly didn’t anticipate the siren song of a clearance-aisle fiddle leaf fig. Fast forward to present day, and my apartment looks like a greenhouse exploded. But becoming a bonafide plant parent? Oh honey, that’s not just about keeping things alive—it’s about navigating a whole set of unspoken rules.

    The Drama of a Dramatic Leaf Drop

    Listen, I’m a rational human being. I understand that plants shed leaves. It’s natural. But catch me dramatically mourning a single yellowed leaf like I’m Ophelia in Hamlet? Absolutely. We, as plant parents, are contractually obligated to engage in this theatricality. It doesn’t matter if our plant is thriving with new growth, a fallen comrade sends us spiraling into a vortex of self-doubt and frantic Google searches. “Why is my plant shedding leaves?! Is it dying?! Is it me?! Am I the drama?!”

    And don’t even get me started on the art of the “subtle brag.” We pretend to lament the loss of a leaf while subtly angling the conversation towards the vigorous new growth sprouting from the top. It’s a delicate dance, really.