Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant humor

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, confession time: I used to be a notorious plant killer. Seriously, I could wither a succulent in a sauna. Give me a cactus, and I’d somehow manage to drown it. It was a sad state of affairs. So, imagine my surprise when, during a particularly uneventful trip to the grocery store, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a droopy little peace lily.

    “Don’t do it,” my inner voice cautioned, “Remember Barry the begonia? And what about Steve the spider plant? Their demise still haunts my dreams!”

    But something about the lily’s sad little leaves called to me. Maybe it was the promise of some much-needed greenery in my life, or maybe it was the deeply discounted price tag. Whatever the reason, I caved.

    And that, my friends, is how my journey into the unexpected (and surprisingly delightful) world of plant parenthood began.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging My Life Choices

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging My Life Choices




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging My Life Choices


    We all know that plants bring life into a room, but have you ever considered they might be absorbing a little too much of yours? I’m starting to suspect my beloved Monstera Deliciosa, Geoffrey, isn’t just a passive observer of my daily chaos. No, Geoffrey, I’m convinced, is judging me.

    The Time Geoffrey Almost Staged a Plant Rebellion

    It all started innocently. I’d brought Geoffrey home to brighten up my apartment, picturing Instagram-worthy moments of domestic bliss. For a while, things were great. Geoffrey thrived, unfurling new leaves with the exuberance of a puppy chasing butterflies. I, on the other hand, was thriving slightly less. Work was a monster (no pun intended), my dating life was a barren wasteland, and I’d perfected the art of surviving on takeout and dry cereal.

    Then, it happened. I woke up one morning to find Geoffrey wilting dramatically, his leaves drooping like a teenager forced to endure a family reunion. I panicked. Had I forgotten to water him? Was he getting enough light? Was this the plant equivalent of a hunger strike?

  • 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? A Hilarious Take on Plant Parenthood


    We all have our quirks. Maybe you leave your socks on the floor (no judgment, sometimes laundry day feels a million miles away) or perhaps you’ve perfected the art of singing off-key in the shower. But have you ever felt like you were being judged…by your houseplant?

    The Side-Eye: My Plant‘s Silent Judgment Begins

    It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a Plant Parent™. I envisioned a lush jungle oasis, a symphony of green to brighten my home. I brought home a majestic (or so I thought) ZZ plant. I named him Zanzibar, because why not?

    plant light, convinced he just needed a bit more sunshine in his life.

    One particularly rough day, after a grueling workout (read: ten minutes of stretching and scrolling through Instagram), I collapsed onto the couch, panting dramatically. As I reached for my third cookie (don’t judge, you haven’t seen my workout routine), I swear I saw it: Zanzibar, in all his leafy glory, was giving me the side-eye.

    The Crooked Watering Can: Is My Plant Judging My Plant Care Skills?

    From that day forward, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Zanzibar was judging my every move. Left the dishes in the sink a little too long? Zanzibar seemed to wilt in disapproval. Wore the same sweatpants three days in a row? His leaves practically curled in on themselves in horror.

    One morning, as I was watering him (with perfectly measured, room-temperature water, I might add!), the watering can slipped, sending a cascade of water onto the floor. As I scrambled for a towel, I could have sworn I heard a heavy sigh. Okay, maybe not a sigh exactly, but there was definitely some rustling of leaves that sounded suspiciously like judgment.

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

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



    We all have our quirks. Some of us talk to our pets (don’t judge!), others burst into song at the most inopportune times. Me? I swear my houseplant is judging me.

    The Side-Eye From a Spider Plant: A Plant Parent’s Journey

    It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a plant parent. I envisioned a lush oasis, a testament to my nurturing abilities. What I got was Horace the Spider Plant, a creature of apparent habit and, dare I say, opinions.

    Horace took to his new home quickly enough, sprouting new growth with gusto. But then, a shift. I was having a particularly rough week – deadlines looming, love life nonexistent, questionable pizza choices – and I noticed Horace seemed…droopy. Not just regular “I need water” droopy, but a full-on “I am deeply disappointed in the life choices you’ve made” droop.

    At first, I laughed it off. Plants can’t judge…right?

    The Curious Case of the Coincidental Wilt: A Pattern Emerges

    But then the coincidences (or were they?) began. A disastrous online date? Horace’s leaves practically curled in on themselves. A particularly triumphant work presentation? The plant practically did a victory dance, new growth unfurling like confetti.

    My friends, initially amused, now fuel the fire.

    • “Did you water Horace with your tears after that text from Dave?”
    • “Wow, Horace is THRIVING. You must have finally folded that laundry pile.”

    I mean, they’re not wrong. The evidence is compelling.

    My Houseplant Stages an Intervention: The Final Straw

    The peak (or should I say, the wilting point) came during a particularly epic procrastination session. I was supposed to be finishing an important project, but instead, I found myself four hours deep into a reality TV marathon, fueled by leftover birthday cake.

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club)




    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a friend to flora. In fact, I had a bit of a reputation as a plant assassin. My thumbs weren’t just black, they were practically shrouded in a dark, wilting aura. My past victims? A jade plant that mysteriously turned to mush, a peace lily that looked anything but peaceful, and a cactus (a CACTUS!) that somehow withered under my care. It was a dark time.

    But then, something changed. Maybe it was a global pandemic that forced me to stare at my bleak, plant-less apartment for months on end. Maybe it was a sudden urge to nurture something other than my sourdough starter. Whatever the reason, I decided to give plant parenthood another shot. And let me tell you, it’s been a wild, hilarious, and surprisingly fulfilling ride.

    Plant Parenting: Wins, Fails, and Funny Stories

    Of course, no journey to plant parenthood is complete without its fair share of mishaps and comedic moments. I’ve learned the hard way that overwatering is a thing (RIP, my second attempt at a peace lily). I’ve also had my fair share of battles with pesky fungus gnats (those little guys are persistent!).

    But through it all, I’ve discovered that even plant parenting failures can be learning experiences (and great stories to tell at parties). Like the time I accidentally knocked over my prized monstera while trying to take a selfie with it (don’t judge me). Or the time I spent an entire afternoon trying to revive a droopy fern, only to realize I had been watering a fake plant for weeks (facepalm).

  • 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 know, staring forlornly into the fridge at 2 a.m., wondering where it all went wrong. But lately, I’ve started to feel a distinct judgment radiating from a different corner of my apartment. It’s not my roommate, nor is it the stack of unread books on my nightstand (though, they probably have opinions too). No, the judgmental stare I’m talking about comes from none other than… my houseplant, Ferdinand.

    The Day Ferdinand Raised an Eyebrow (Figuratively, of Course)

    It all started innocently enough. I was repotting Ferdinand, a majestic ZZ plant I might add, when I accidentally ripped one of his healthy, green stems. Mortified, I apologized profusely, like the crazy plant lady I’m slowly becoming. But as I looked at Ferdinand, I swear I saw a flicker of something in his… leaves? Was that… judgment?

    Since then, I can’t shake the feeling that Ferdinand is silently critiquing my every move. Left the dishes piled up again? Ferdinand seems to droop a little lower. Scrolling aimlessly through social media instead of pursuing my dreams? I swear I hear a rustle of disapproval from his corner.

    Exhibit A: The Great ZZ Plant Watering Debacle

    Ferdinand, like most ZZ plants, enjoys a good, thorough watering – but only when the soil is dry. Me? I’m more of a “Whoops, forgot to water you for two weeks, let me drown you in compensation” kind of plant parent.

    One particularly egregious overwatering incident led to Ferdinand’s leaves turning an alarming shade of yellow. As I frantically googled “How to save overwatered plant,” I could practically feel Ferdinand’s judgmental gaze burning into my soul. He seemed to be saying, “Seriously, Susan? It’s literally one job.”

    Can a Houseplant Inspire Us to Grow?

    Here’s the thing about plants: they thrive when you give them consistent care and attention. My writing, much like Ferdinand, also thrives when I nurture it. But life, as it tends to do, gets in the way. Deadlines, errands, that new season of [insert your latest binge-worthy show] – all conspire to steal my time and focus.

    One evening, after a particularly unproductive day spent scrolling through social media, I glanced at Ferdinand. He stood tall and proud, a testament to the power of consistent growth. And in that moment, I realized something profound: Ferdinand wasn’t judging me, he was inspiring me. He was a silent reminder that even small, consistent actions can lead to incredible results.

    So, Is My Plant Judging Me?

    Maybe, maybe not. But honestly, does it even matter? He’s a plant, after all. But his silent presence has made me more aware of my own habits – the good, the bad, and the downright neglectful. And if a little bit of plant-based judgment helps me become a better plant parent and a better human, then I’ll take it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a certain ZZ plant to go water… correctly this time.

    Do you think your houseplants are judging you too? Share your hilarious plant parenting stories in the comments below!

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me (and Other Weird Habits I’ve Developed)

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me (and Other Weird Habits I’ve Developed)

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me (and Other Weird Habits I’ve Developed)

    From Plant Killer to Paranoid Plant Parent

    Remember that time I accidentally killed a cactus? Yeah, I know, rookie mistake. You’d think succulents were hard to kill, but somehow I managed it. Fast forward to today, and I’m now the proud (and slightly neurotic) parent of fifteen thriving houseplants. And let me tell you, the transformation has been…weird.

    It all started subtly. I’d find myself talking to my peace lily, Phil. Just casual things, like, “Morning, Phil, looking perky today!” or “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll water you soon.” Harmless, right? But then things escalated…

    The Side-Eye from Fernie: My Houseplant’s Silent Judgment

    It’s Fernie, my majestic Boston fern, who I suspect is the mastermind behind my descent into plant-induced madness. He sits there on his pedestal (okay, it’s a plant stand, but still), fronds cascading down like a green waterfall, and I swear he watches my every move.

    Like, the other day, I was stress-eating leftover pizza at 2 AM. As I shamelessly shoved the last cold slice into my mouth, I caught Fernie’s reflection in the window. And you know what? I swear he rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe it was just the breeze, but the judgment was palpable.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into Plant-Based Side Eye

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into Plant-Based Side Eye



    My Fiddle Leaf Fig Swooned (In Disgust?)

    We’ve all been there. You know, that moment when you’re scarfing down leftover pizza in your pajamas at 2 PM on a Tuesday, and you catch a glimpse of your houseplant. It’s just sitting there, silently soaking up the sun… or is it judging your questionable life choices?

    I swear, my fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, fainted dead away last week when I accidentally watered him with the remnants of my cold brew (don’t judge me, it was a Monday!). One minute he was standing tall and proud, the next he was dramatically drooping like he’d just witnessed a crime against nature.

    Which, let’s be honest, he kind of did. But still! Ferdinand’s dramatic reaction got me thinking… are our houseplants secretly judging us?

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me


    The Mystery of the Droopy Leaves

    We’ve all been there. You’re having a particularly rough day, the kind where you spill coffee on your favorite shirt and trip up the stairs, only to be greeted by a chorus of wilted leaves from your usually perky peace lily. It’s like it knew.

    At first, I brushed it off. “It’s just a plant,” I told myself, misting its dramatically drooping foliage. But as the weeks went by, I started noticing a pattern. A pattern that, dare I say, suggested a level of silent judgment that would put even the most disapproving aunt to shame.

    Plant Knows When I’m Stressed (and Judges Me Accordingly)

    Take last Tuesday, for instance. I was having a heated phone conversation with my internet provider (let’s just say patience isn’t their strong suit). As my frustration mounted, I paced around my living room, gesturing wildly with the phone cord (yes, I still have a landline, don’t judge!).

    Mid-rant, I caught a glimpse of my previously chipper spider plant. Its leaves, which were happily reaching towards the ceiling just moments before, were now engaged in a dramatic downward spiral. It was as if the plant itself had sighed and muttered, “Here we go again…”

    Coincidence? I think not.

    The Watering Can Stare-Down: A Plant’s Guilt Trip

    Then there’s the whole watering situation. You know that look your dog gives you when you’re about to indulge in a particularly delicious-smelling snack? The one that’s a mix of longing, hope, and just a hint of accusation?

    My plant has perfected that look.

    Every time I approach with the watering can, it seems to straighten up a bit, leaves perking up ever so slightly. But if I dare wait a day or two past its preferred watering schedule? Forget about it. I’m subjected to a full-on botanical guilt trip, complete with dramatic leaf drooping and, I swear, an audible sigh (or maybe that’s just the wind whistling through the drafty windowsill?).

  • 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 Started on Day One

    Let’s be real, we’ve all been there. You bring home a beautiful new houseplant, all vibrant green and full of life. You give it a prime spot by the window, whisper words of encouragement (don’t judge), and dream of the lush oasis it will become. But then… it happens. You catch it. That subtle, yet unmistakable side-eye. The one that seems to say, “Really? This is the best you could do?”

    That’s how it all started with Phil, my majestic (and apparently judgmental) Monstera Deliciosa. From the moment I brought him home, I could sense a certain… disapproval emanating from his leafy appendages. Maybe it was the chipped pot I’d temporarily placed him in. Or perhaps he’d overheard me humming off-key while watering him (okay, it was definitely off-key). Whatever the reason, I was convinced Phil was judging my every move.

    Phil, oh Phil, he has a knack for drama. Let me forget to water him for a mere 24 hours and his leaves droop lower than my motivation on a Monday morning. And it’s not just a subtle wilt, mind you. We’re talking a full-on theatrical performance of botanical despair.

    At first, I panicked. Was he getting enough light? Did I overwater? Was it something I said?! Then, it hit me. The strategic droop. A calculated maneuver designed to induce guilt and ensure my swift return to plant-parent duties. Clever girl… I mean, plant.

    Exhibit B: The Curious Case of the Growth Spurt

    Here’s where things get really interesting. A few weeks ago, I was having a particularly stressful day. Deadlines loomed, my inbox resembled a black hole, and I may or may not have stress-eaten an entire bag of chips (don’t judge, Phil!). Feeling defeated, I slumped onto the couch, muttering to myself about the unfairness of it all. That’s when I noticed it.

    Phil had sprouted a new leaf. A big, beautiful, vibrant green leaf. It was as if he was saying, “Get a grip, human. I’ve seen worse.” Or maybe, “See, this is what happens when you finally clean this dusty living room.” Either way, the timing was suspect. Coincidence? I think not.