Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant humor

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    Confessions of a Newly Minted Plant Person

    Remember that time I swore I’d never become “one of those plant people?” Yeah, about that… Fast forward to me, elbow-deep in potting mix, cooing sweet nothings to a droopy fern named Ferdinand. The truth is, becoming a plant parent is a slippery slope, a delightful descent into a world of photosynthesis, propagation, and yes, a touch of obsession.

    But here’s the thing: nobody tells you about the unspoken rules. It’s like there’s this secret society of plant lovers, exchanging knowing glances over their thriving monsteras. Well, fear not, fellow plant enthusiasts, because I’m spilling the (organic, fertilizer-enriched) tea on the unspoken rules of being a plant parent.

    Rule #1: Thou Shalt Talk to Thy Plants (and Occasionally Apologize)

    Look, I know it sounds crazy, but there’s something therapeutic about whispering words of encouragement to your leafy companions. Maybe it’s the fresh oxygen going to my head, but I swear my plants perk up when I tell them they’re looking particularly vibrant. And when I accidentally overwater (it happens!), a heartfelt apology is in order. “I’m so sorry, Philodendron Pete! I didn’t mean to give you swamp roots!”

    Is it scientifically proven that plant whispering works? Who knows! But here’s what I do know:

    • It makes me feel more connected to my plants.
    • It gives me a chance to channel my inner plant whisperer (which, let’s be honest, is a highly coveted skill).
    • It’s way more fun than just watering them in silence.

    Rule #2: The Internet Is Your Best Friend (and Worst Enemy)

    Oh, the internet. A vast repository of plant care knowledge and a breeding ground for crippling plant anxiety. One Google search can send you down a rabbit hole of conflicting advice, leaving you more confused than when you started.

    Here’s my advice: find a few reputable sources you trust (hello, local nursery experts!) and stick with them. Don’t fall prey to the endless scroll of Instagram-perfect plant shelves and the pressure to buy every trendy new variety. Remember, the best plant for you is one that thrives in your home and brings you joy, not Instagram likes.

    Rule #3: Embrace the “Plant Parent Starter Pack”

    Congratulations, you’ve officially entered the world of plant parenthood! This means you’re now the proud owner of:

    1. An ever-growing collection of terracotta pots, even though you swore you wouldn’t buy any more.
    2. A suspicious-looking bottle of “miracle grow” that you’re pretty sure is just sugar water, but you’re too afraid to stop using it.
    3. A deep and abiding love for natural light that rivals a sunflower’s.

    Don’t fight it, my friend. Embrace the quirks of plant parenthood. After all, it’s all part of the fun.

    So, Are You Ready to Join the Club?

    The world of plant parenthood is full of laughter, learning, and yes, the occasional heartbreak (RIP, my beloved peace lily). But it’s also incredibly rewarding to nurture living things and watch them flourish under your care. So, tell me, are you ready to join the club?

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplants Are Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplants Are Secretly Judging Me



    We all know that plants respond to stimuli, right? Light, water, the occasional serenade of show tunes (just me?). But lately, I’ve started to suspect my leafy roommates are doing a little more than just photosynthesizing. They’re judging. Me. And honestly, who can blame them?

    The Dramatic Dieffenbachia and the Fiddle Leaf Fig

    It all started with Derek, my formerly thriving Dieffenbachia. One day he was the picture of plant perfection, the next he was wilting faster than my hopes and dreams after a bad Tinder date. I’m talking full-on dramatic swoon, leaves drooping like they hadn’t seen a drop of water in decades (it had been two days, max!).

    Now, I’ll admit, I’m not always the most attentive plant parent. I’m more of a “Whoops, forgot to water you for a week, but here’s a whole gallon to make up for it!” kind of gal. But Derek? Derek was different. He was thriving! Until, that is, I brought home that fiddle leaf fig everyone’s been raving about.

    Derek was clearly green with envy (pun intended). From then on, I swear I could feel his judgmental gaze every time I watered Fiona the Fiddle Leaf first. “Oh, so she’s the favorite now, is she?” his drooping leaves seemed to whisper. “Just wait until she sees what I do to your social media feed when you inevitably kill her with kindness.”

    The Silent Treatment: Passive-Aggressive Plant Behavior

    Derek isn’t the only one throwing shade (again, pun intended). My peace lily, Petunia, is a master of passive aggression. Forget the dramatic wilting – she goes straight for the silent treatment. Literally. This plant, known for its beautiful white blooms, has refused to flower since I accidentally left her outside during a freak hailstorm (it was one time, Petunia, get over it!).

    And then there’s Steve, my snake plant. Steve is the strong, silent type. He’s also incredibly low-maintenance, which I appreciate…most of the time. But sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I catch him shooting up a new leaf at an alarming rate. It’s like he’s saying, “See? I can thrive even with minimal effort. Step up your game.”

  • 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?


  • 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?)

  • Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into the Mind of My Monstera

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into the Mind of My Monstera

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into My Monstera‘s Mind

    The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    It happened again this morning. I was, let’s just say, not looking my finest. You know, the post-sleep hair, mismatched pajamas, pre-coffee haze kind of morning. As I stumbled past my Monstera, Monty for short, I swear I saw it. A slight shift of its largest leaf, a subtle turn towards the window, and that unmistakable vibe that screamed, “Seriously, Sharon? This is how you live your life?”

    Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic. But ever since Monty sprouted its third new leaf this spring, I’ve been convinced it’s developed something of a judgmental streak. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy (plant?). But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel like I’m living under the watchful, leafy gaze of a botanical Supreme Court judge.

    Monty for, oh, about two weeks? I know, I know, plant parent of the year right here. Anyway, when I finally remembered and rushed over with the watering can, Monty’s leaves were drooping lower than my enthusiasm for Monday mornings. As I poured the life-giving water, I could practically hear a heavy sigh, followed by a muttered, “It’s about time.”

    Look, I get it. Plants need water. But was that dramatic sigh really necessary, Monty? Couldn’t we have just moved on with our lives? Apparently not. The memory of that disappointed droop still haunts me (and probably fuels my occasional overwatering, but that’s a story for another day).

    Exhibit B: The Great Takeout Container Debacle

    We’ve all been there. It’s been a long day, you’re exhausted, and the last thing you want to do is cook. So, you order takeout. Again. And maybe you leave the empty containers on the counter a little longer than you should. Okay, maybe a lot longer.

    Well, one morning, as I was finally tackling the leaning tower of takeout containers, I caught Monty’s reflection in the window. Or rather, what I perceived as a reflection of my own shame staring back at me. It felt like Monty, with its perfectly positioned leaves and air of quiet dignity, was silently judging my less-than-perfect culinary habits.

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

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



    That Time My Plant Gave Me the Side-Eye

    I swear, it happened like this. I was sprawled on the couch, buried under a mountain of laundry (both clean and… otherwise), stress-eating leftover takeout, when I happened to glance at Phil. Yes, Phil, my majestic peace lily. He’s usually quite the agreeable housemate—low maintenance, quiet, and a master at photosynthesis. But this time, something was different. As I shamelessly shoved another forkful of noodles into my face, I caught his leaves… drooping? Was he… judging me?

    Phil has become increasingly aware of my life choices, and let’s just say, he’s not impressed.

    Signs Your Houseplant is Judging You: Exhibit A – The Neglected Watering Can

    I consider myself a plant enthusiast, really, I do! I mean, I own a watering can (singular, yes). But sometimes, life gets in the way. You know, things like binge-watching an entire season of a show in one sitting or perfecting my online shopping skills. So, when I finally remember Phil’s need for hydration, he’s usually drier than my sense of humor after a week of bad puns.

    As I drag myself over to the sink, I swear I can hear a heavy sigh. Then comes the slow, dramatic leaf wilt. “Look, I’m sorry!” I find myself apologizing, as if a plant can understand the complexities of my procrastination. “I promise to download a plant care app… eventually.” Phil, in all his leafy wisdom, remains unconvinced.

    Signs Your Houseplant is Judging You: Exhibit B – The Great Repotting Debacle

    Let’s talk about repotting. It’s a necessary evil, like going to the dentist or deciphering IKEA instructions. Phil had been sending out some pretty strong hints that he’d outgrown his humble abode. Namely, his roots were staging a hostile takeover through the drainage holes. So, one Saturday afternoon, I decided to tackle the task.

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me




    Does My Houseplant Judge Me? (Hilarious Signs It Might)


    From Green Thumb to Green-Eyed Monster?

    The other day, I caught myself apologizing to my peace lily, Ferdinand. Not for forgetting to water him (though, guilty as charged), but for the sheer state of my apartment. You know, the kind of mess that makes you question your life choices: laundry mountain looming large, dishes piled high like a modern art installation, and enough takeout containers to build a miniature city. As I sheepishly mumbled, “Sorry, Ferdy, I’ll tidy up soon,” I swear I saw a judgmental quiver in one of his leaves. Okay, maybe not, but that’s when it hit me: Ferdinand is totally judging me.

    Now, I know what you’re thinking: “You’ve officially gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” Hear me out! It’s not just the side-eye (or, leaf-eye?) I get from Ferdinand. There’s a whole list of “evidence” that points to his silent disapproval.

    Exhibit A: The Dramatic Wilt

    Ferdinand is a master of passive-aggression. Forget a day of watering? He doesn’t just droop slightly, he throws a full-on dramatic fainting spell. Leaves wilting, stems drooping, the whole nine yards. He’s basically the Meryl Streep of the plant world, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance of “neglected houseplant.” And you know what? It works! Every time, I rush to his rescue, filled with guilt and promises of better plant parenting.

    like he’s saying, “Oh, you’re back from your little life outside? I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

    Exhibit B: The Suspicious Growth Spurts

    Here’s the thing about Ferdinand: he only seems to thrive when my life is a hot mess. Seriously! Remember that time I had a huge deadline at work and lived off instant noodles for a week? Ferdinand sprouted a new leaf. That period when I went through a brutal breakup and subsisted solely on ice cream and rom-coms? Two words: growth spurt.

    It’s like he feeds off my misery, thriving on my chaotic energy. Which, let’s be honest, is a little unnerving. Is he judging my coping mechanisms? Is he secretly judging my taste in movies? I can’t help but feel like he’s judging me.

    Exhibit C: Does My Plant Have a Sixth Sense?

    Okay, this one might be a stretch, even for my paranoid plant-parent mind. But I swear, Ferdinand knows things. Like, he’ll be perfectly content one minute, then the second I even think about repotting him (which, admittedly, hasn’t happened in a while), BAM! Droopy leaves. Dramatic sigh. You get the picture.

    Is he psychic? Telepathic? Does he have a direct line to my subconscious, picking up on my every procrastinated chore and unfulfilled promise of becoming a “plant person”? I wouldn’t put it past him.

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

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

    Discover the unexpected joys of being a plant parent, from the zen of watering to the thrill of new growth. Yes, even you can keep a plant alive (probably)!

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, friends, gather ’round. Let me tell you a tale—a tale of a chronic plant killer (that’s me!) turned unlikely plant whisperer. You see, I used to think that keeping a houseplant alive was akin to performing open-heart surgery… on a cactus. My track record? Let’s just say the local compost bin knew me by name.

    But then, something magical happened. A friend gifted me a resilient little ZZ plant (a.k.a. the plant that laughs in the face of neglect). And guess what? It survived! Not only did it survive, but it actually thrived under my less-than-expert care. That’s when I realized something profound: maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

    The Zen of Watering (No, Seriously!)

    Fast forward to today, and I’m the proud parent to a whole jungle of leafy companions. And let me tell you, there are some seriously unexpected joys to this whole plant parent thing.

    First up: the zen of watering. I know, I know, sounds boring, right? But hear me out. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about gently showering your plants, watching the water trickle down the leaves, knowing you’re giving them the life-giving elixir they crave. It’s like a mini meditation session, but with less chanting and more leafy goodness.

    Plus, have you ever stuck your nose in a pot of freshly watered herbs? Talk about aromatherapy on demand! Seriously, move over, lavender oil, there’s a new scent-sation in town.

    The Thrill of New Growth (It’s Like Christmas Morning, But Greener)

    But the real magic? The absolute best part of being a plant parent? It’s that moment when you spot a new leaf unfurling, reaching for the sky like a tiny green fist bump. It’s pure, unadulterated joy, my friends.

    Suddenly, you’re not just a responsible adult who remembers to pay their bills on time (most of the time). You’re a miracle worker! A plant whisperer! You, my friend, have officially defied the odds and kept another living thing alive. Cue the victory dance!

    And the best part is, these little victories happen all the time. New leaves, new stems, even new roots poking out of the drainage holes (always a welcome surprise!). It’s like Christmas morning, but instead of presents, you get tiny bundles of chlorophyll. And honestly, what’s not to love about that?

    Ready to Become a Plant Parent?

    Look, I get it. Becoming a plant parent can seem intimidating. But trust me, it’s so much easier (and more rewarding) than you think. Start small, choose forgiving plants, and don’t be afraid to ask for help (or consult the all-knowing Google).

    Because once you experience the joy of nurturing another living thing, of watching it grow and thrive under your care, you’ll understand what it truly means to be a plant parent. And trust me, you won’t want to go back.

    So, what are you waiting for? Grab yourself a plant (or five!), and join the wonderful, wacky world of plant parenthood. We’re waiting for you!

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant


    My Green Thumb Turned Out to Be a Black Thumb

    Let’s be honest, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. I’m more comfortable with a keyboard than a trowel, and my idea of nurturing is remembering to water my coffee before drinking it (most days). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a vibrant peace lily, I knew I was in trouble.

    “It’s practically impossible to kill!” she’d assured me.

    Famous last words.

    life.

    Lesson #1: Tough Love and Google Saved My Peace Lily

    I tried everything: whispering sweet nothings, serenading him with Mozart (apparently, plants love classical music?), even resorting to threats when all else failed. Nothing worked. Prosper was on a one-way trip to Plant Heaven.

    Desperate, I did what any self-respecting millennial would do: I consulted Google. Turns out, I’d been drowning the poor guy in my misguided attempts at affection. My overwatering had led to root rot, a death sentence for most plants.

    Armed with this newfound knowledge, I repotted Prosper, giving his roots room to breathe and promising to be more mindful of his needs. Slowly but surely, he started to bounce back. Turns out, sometimes a little tough love (and the right amount of water) is all you need to thrive.

    Lesson #2: Patience is a Virtue (Especially for Plant Parents)

    As Prosper regained his strength, I learned another valuable lesson: patience. Unlike my instant-gratification lifestyle, where Amazon deliveries arrive before I can say “two-day shipping,” watching a plant grow is an exercise in delayed satisfaction.

    Every new leaf that unfurled felt like a small victory. Each day, I’d inspect him for signs of growth, my heart swelling with pride at the tiniest bit of progress. I learned to appreciate the slow, steady rhythm of nature, a welcome contrast to the frenetic pace of my digital world.

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

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

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (And Why You Should Totally Join the Club)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. For the longest time, my thumbs were about as green as a ripe avocado… that’s been left in the back of the fridge for six months. My track record with plants was, shall we say, less than stellar. I’m talking wilting basil, drooping succulents, and a cactus that somehow managed to die of thirst (I still don’t know how).

    But then, something magical happened. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a sudden urge to nurture something other than my caffeine addiction, but I decided to give this whole plant thing another shot. And you know what? It’s been one of the most rewarding (and hilarious) experiences of my life.

    Plant Parenthood

    Now, I’m not saying I’m suddenly an expert botanist or anything. My apartment isn’t exactly a tropical rainforest (though my humidity-loving ferns might disagree). But along the way, I’ve discovered some unexpected joys of being a plant parent that go way beyond just having something green in your living room:

    1. Plants are the chillest roommates ever. Seriously, they don’t steal your food, hog the bathroom, or complain about your questionable taste in music. They’re also surprisingly low-maintenance. Water them occasionally, give them some sunlight, and they’ll reward you with their quiet, leafy presence.
    2. They’re a natural mood booster. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants, watching them grow, and maybe even having a little chat with them (don’t judge, we all do it). Studies have even shown that being around plants can reduce stress and boost your mood.
    3. They make you feel like an actual adult. Remember that feeling of accomplishment when you successfully assembled IKEA furniture? It’s kind of like that, but with more photosynthesis. Keeping a plant alive and thriving is basically a crash course in responsibility (and a subtle reminder to water yourself once in a while).

    Tales From the Plant Parent Trenches (aka My Hilarious Mishaps)

    Now, before you think this whole plant parenting thing is all sunshine and blooming roses (pun intended), let me share a few hilarious mishaps from my own journey:

    • The Great Gnat Invasion of 2022: Remember that time I accidentally overwatered my peace lily and ended up with a swarm of tiny, winged roommates? Let’s just say it involved a lot of sticky traps, a frantic Google search, and a newfound appreciation for dry soil.
    • The Case of the Leaning Tower of Monstera: My monstera deliciosa was thriving… a little too much. It started growing sideways, reaching for the sunlight like a desperate vine. Cue me frantically trying to build a makeshift moss pole out of chopsticks and twine. It wasn’t pretty, but hey, we improvised.