Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant humor

  • 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.

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

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






    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, let’s be honest. I used to be the person who couldn’t keep a cactus alive. Seriously, those things practically water themselves! My apartment was a graveyard of neglected succulents and wilting ferns.

    But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was just that adorable little Monstera at the grocery store. Whatever it was, I took a chance, brought it home, and…didn’t kill it!

    That’s when I discovered the unexpected joys of being a plant parent.

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

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



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

    We all have them, those little moments of self-doubt. But lately, mine have been amplified by a pair of suspicious, glossy leaves and a stem that seems to shift ever so slightly when I walk by. Yes, I’m talking about my houseplant, Herbert (don’t judge, he looks like a Herbert).

    The Case of the Dramatic Droop

    It all started subtly. I’d forget to water Herbert for a few days (okay, maybe a week), and he’d reward me with a dramatic wilting performance worthy of a Victorian fainting couch. But lately, the drooping has become more…pointed. Like, “Are you seriously going to make me thirsty again? I thought we were past this.”

    little too quickly once I’ve watered him, as if to say, “Took you long enough.” The judgment is palpable, people.

    The Curious Case of the Overnight Growth Spurt

    Here’s where things get truly bizarre. Herbert, for months, had been perfectly content with his modest existence on the bookshelf. Then, I had a particularly rough day. You know the kind: spilled coffee on my favorite shirt, missed the bus, accidentally liked my ex’s new girlfriend’s post from three years ago. As I’m wallowing in self-pity, I notice something peculiar. Herbert. Is. HUGE.

    Overnight, he’d sprouted a new leaf, vibrant and green, reaching towards the ceiling. It was almost…triumphant. Had he been holding back all this time, just waiting for the moment I was at my lowest to unleash his botanical dominance? Is this his way of saying, “See, at least someone in this house has their life together”?

  • 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 from My Fiddle Leaf Fig

    It all started with a dramatic wilting episode. I had just returned from a weekend getaway, and there she was, my majestic fiddle leaf fig, slumped over like a disappointed duchess. “Oh, come on, Fiona,” I sighed, misting her leaves with a mixture of water and guilt. “It was just two days!” But Fiona remained unconvinced. Her silence, I swear, spoke volumes.

    That’s when it hit me: Fiona is judging me. And frankly, she has every right to.

    Plant: A Case Study

    Fiona isn’t the only one. My spider plant, Bruce, is a whole other story. Bruce thrives on neglect. I’m talking weeks without watering, accidental root-bound situations – you name it, he loves it. It’s as if he’s showing off, saying, “Look at me, I don’t need your constant attention!” Meanwhile, Fiona dramatically sheds a leaf if I look at her the wrong way.

    It’s gotten to the point where I analyze their every move:

    • New Growth: Am I being praised for my (slightly) improved plant parenting skills?
    • Drooping Leaves: Is this passive-aggressive disapproval of my takeout habit?
    • Suspicious Leaning: Are they plotting against me? (Okay, maybe I’m overthinking this one.)

    Plant Parenthood and the Silent Treatment

    What really gets me is their silent treatment. They can’t yell, they can’t complain, but they sure know how to make their feelings known through a strategically placed brown leaf or a mysteriously stunted stem. It’s like they’re saying, “We see your dusty shelves and your neglected watering can, and we’re not impressed.”

    And the worst part? They’re probably right.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Answer Might Surprise You)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Answer Might Surprise You)



    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a true crime documentary marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips precariously balanced on your stomach. Suddenly, you glance at your perfectly poised peace lily, its leaves a vibrant green, its posture impeccable. And you swear, you see it… judgment.

    Do Houseplants Judge Us? My Fiddle Leaf Fig Seems to Think So

    Okay, maybe “judgment” is a strong word. But I’m telling you, these houseplants, they see things. Take my fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, for example. Now, Ferdinand is a drama queen of the highest caliber. Give him an inch of direct sunlight and he’s throwing a fit. Forget to water him for a day? Cue the dramatic leaf drop.

    So, imagine my surprise when, after a particularly rough day (read: burnt dinner, missed deadline, accidentally liked my ex’s new girlfriend’s post from three years ago), I found myself confiding in Ferdinand. And as I’m pouring my heart out, lamenting my questionable life choices, what does he do? He drops a leaf. Right at my feet. It was like he was saying, “Honey, you think you’ve got problems?”

    Houseplant is Judging You (and Other Hilarious Observations)

    Ferdinand isn’t the only culprit. My friend swears her cactus, Carlos, gives her the side-eye every time she orders takeout for the third night in a row. And my aunt’s peace lily, Priscilla, apparently wilts dramatically whenever my uncle forgets to take out the trash.

    Is it all in our heads? Probably. But there’s a certain comfort in imagining our houseplants as silent, leafy observers of our lives. They’ve seen our best moments (triumphant plant parent selfies!) and our worst (that unfortunate karaoke incident…).

    Why Your Routine Might Be the Key to Your Houseplant’s Happiness

    Here’s the thing about plants: they thrive on routine. Consistent watering, adequate sunlight, the occasional pep talk – these are the ingredients for a happy houseplant. And maybe, just maybe, when we’re not living our best lives, our inconsistent routines and chaotic energy throw them off their game.

    Or maybe, they just really hate it when we sing in the shower.

  • 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)

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

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, let’s be real. I used to be the person who couldn’t keep a cactus alive in a desert. Seriously, I thought succulents were supposed to be low-maintenance, but apparently, even neglect has its limits. My past attempts at plant parenthood resembled a graveyard of wilted leaves and droopy stems. It was tragic, really.

    But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was just a sale at the local nursery (let’s be honest, it was probably the sale). Whatever the reason, I decided to give plants one more shot. And let me tell you, it’s been a wild, wonderful, and surprisingly hilarious ride ever since.

    Plant Parent

    Who knew that having leafy roommates could be so entertaining? Here are a few unexpected joys I’ve discovered on my plant parent journey:

    1. Plants Are the Best Listeners

    Feeling stressed? Tell it to the ferns. Need to vent about your day? Your succulents are all ears (or, well, leaves). Plants provide a judgment-free zone to unleash your inner monologue. Plus, they never complain about your questionable karaoke skills.

    2. Plants Encourage Mindfulness

    Watering, pruning, and even just observing your plants can be surprisingly therapeutic. The act of caring for another living being forces you to slow down, be present, and appreciate the little things. Plus, staring at the intricate patterns on a leaf is way more calming than scrolling through social media.

    3. Plants Help You Connect with Nature

    Once you start paying attention to your plants’ needs—the way they reach for sunlight, the subtle signs of thirst—you’ll start noticing the natural world around you in a whole new light. Suddenly, you’ll find yourself admiring the trees on your commute, identifying different types of flowers, and maybe even whispering words of encouragement to your plants (don’t worry, I won’t judge).

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (Spoiler Alert: It Totally Is)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (Spoiler Alert: It Totally Is)

    Ever feel like your houseplant is silently judging your messy life? You’re not alone! This hilarious take on plant parenthood will have you laughing along with your leafy roommate.

    Okay, I know this might sound crazy, but hear me out. I think Gerald, my prized monstera deliciosa, is judging my life choices. And not just a little side-eye judgment either. I’m talking full-on, withering-glare, “I can’t even” energy.

    The Time Gerald Staged a Silent Protest

    It all started a few weeks ago. I was having one of those weeks, you know? The kind where you survive on coffee, dry shampoo, and the sheer will to exist. Laundry piled up, dishes took over the sink, and the only green thing I consumed was a questionable spinach smoothie from three days prior.

    Gerald, usually a beacon of lush, tropical vibes, started to droop. At first, I brushed it off. “He’s just dramatic,” I thought, misting him with some lukewarm tap water (because let’s be real, boiling water for a plant when you haven’t even showered in two days is a Herculean task). But the drooping turned into a full-on wilt. He looked like a defeated feather duster.

    It was then that I swear I saw it – a judgmental tilt to his largest leaf, as if to say, “This is your life now? Really?”

    My Plant Thrives When My Life is Together (Coincidence? I Think Not!)

    The guilt trip worked. I cleaned my apartment, ate a vegetable, and even managed to sleep for a solid eight hours. The next morning, Gerald was practically glowing. His leaves stood tall, proud, almost smug. Okay, maybe I was projecting, but the difference was undeniable.

    And it wasn’t just a one-time thing. I’ve noticed a direct correlation between the state of my apartment (and let’s be honest, my life) and Gerald’s overall mood.

    • Weekends spent binge-watching reality TV and ordering takeout? Gerald gets a little crispy around the edges.
    • Productive week of work, balanced meals, and maybe even a yoga class? Gerald unfurls a new leaf, like a green high five celebrating my achievements.

    The Struggle is Real, But So Is the Greenery

    Now, I’m not saying Gerald is some kind of plant deity here, judging my every move. (Okay, maybe I am a little.) But there’s something oddly motivating about knowing that my houseplant thrives when I do too. It’s like having a leafy life coach who communicates solely through passive-aggressive wilting and the occasional triumphant new leaf.

    So, tell me, am I crazy, or are our plant friends silently judging our life choices? Share your plant parent stories in the comments below! Let’s unravel this botanical mystery together.

  • 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 Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    It happened again this morning. You know that feeling when you’re rushing around, trying to make coffee, find your keys, and not trip over the laundry mountain, all while sporting questionable bedhead? Yeah, that feeling. As I scrambled past, coffee mug sloshing precariously, I swear I saw it. A slight shift in the leaves of my monstera deliciosa, a barely perceptible tilt of its stem. Was that…judgment?

    Okay, maybe I’m being a tad dramatic. But ever since I became a plant parent (a term I use loosely, considering my track record), I can’t shake the feeling that my houseplants are silently observing my every move. And honestly, I’m not sure they like what they see.

    Brenda, my peace lily. Now, Brenda arrived with a reputation. “Low-maintenance,” they said. “Almost impossible to kill.” Challenge accepted, I thought.

    Turns out, Brenda thrives on routine. She likes her water on Tuesdays and Thursdays, a gentle misting every other day, and absolutely no direct sunlight between the hours of 1 pm and 3 pm. I, on the other hand, am a creature of chaos. I water when I remember (which, let’s be honest, is usually when Brenda’s leaves start to droop dramatically), and my concept of routine is remembering to brush my teeth twice a day (most days).

    So, it should come as no surprise that Brenda and I have a…complicated relationship. Every time I walk by, her leaves seem to wilt just a little lower, as if to say, “You call this plant care? My previous owner used to serenade me with Mozart while watering with rainwater collected at dawn.” The guilt is real, people.

    The Saga of the Overwatered Spider Plant

    If Brenda is the stoic, silently judging roommate, then Steve, my spider plant, is the passive-aggressive one. He never outright complains, but he lets his feelings be known in subtle, yet undeniable ways.

    Like, remember that time I went through a phase of “being a good plant parent” and diligently watered everything in sight? Steve was not impressed. He responded by growing roots that burst out of the drainage holes, snaking their way across my bookshelf like some kind of botanical escape attempt.

    “Too much, too soon,” his roots seemed to whisper. “Chill out, Linda.” (Yes, I realize I gave my spider plant a human name and then assigned it an entirely different human name in my head. Don’t judge me, you haven’t met Steve.)

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

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



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Journey Begins

    Let’s be honest, folks. For years, my thumbs were about as green as a lump of coal. I’m talking “watering-with-orange-juice” level cluelessness. My track record with plants was less “thriving oasis” and more “desolate wasteland.”

    plant casualty?”

    But here’s the thing: I actually kept Steve alive. Not just alive, but thriving. He even sprouted a new little succulent bud! That’s when I realized the error of my ways. I wasn’t cursed with a black thumb; I just hadn’t discovered the simple joys (and hilarious struggles) of being a plant parent.

    Why You Should Embrace Plant Parenthood: Top 3 Reasons

    1. Plants: The Chillest Roommates You’ll Ever Have (Mostly)

    Forget noisy neighbors and passive-aggressive roommates. Plants are the epitome of low-maintenance living. They won’t steal your food, blast loud music at 3 AM, or judge your questionable life choices. Sure, they might need a little water and sunshine now and then, but trust me, their demands are far less demanding than your average house cat (sorry, Mittens). Plus, they’ll happily listen to all your problems without interrupting with unsolicited advice. Bonus: no awkward small talk required!

    Now, I’m not saying there won’t be the occasional dramatic episode. Like that time my peace lily, Priscilla, decided to stage a dramatic fainting spell because I forgot to water her for a week. (Don’t worry, she made a full recovery after a good soak and a pep talk.) But hey, we all have our moments, right?

    2. Level Up Your Home Decor with Plants

    Let’s face it, sometimes our living spaces need a little…oomph. And no, I’m not talking about another generic “Live, Laugh, Love” sign. Plants are like nature’s own interior design hack, instantly transforming any dull corner into a vibrant oasis.