Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant humor

  • 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)

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

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. My thumbs have never been known for their verdant touch. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus in a desert. Okay, maybe not that bad, but you get the picture. Succulents wilted under my watch, spider plants surrendered their last legs, and don’t even get me started on that poor, innocent peace lily. Let’s just say it wasn’t very peaceful.

    So, imagine my surprise when, in the midst of a global pandemic and fueled by endless sourdough bread baking, I found myself inexplicably drawn to the plant section of the grocery store. Fast forward two years, and my apartment looks like a greenhouse exploded (in the best way possible, of course). Turns out, plant parenthood is kind of amazing. Who knew?

    1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates Ever (Except for That One Drama Queen Fern)

    Forget noisy roommates who steal your food and leave dirty dishes in the sink. Plants are the epitome of low-maintenance living. They don’t care if you blast your 90s playlist at 2 am, they’ll never borrow your clothes without asking, and they’ll happily accept whatever scraps of sunlight your apartment offers.

    Sure, they might need a little water and the occasional pep talk (don’t judge, it works!), but trust me, their demands are far less demanding than even the most well-behaved cat or dog. Plus, they’ll never judge your questionable decorating choices. Except maybe that one dramatic fern I have. She’s a bit of a diva.

    2. Who Needs Therapy When You Can Talk to Your Plants? (They’re Great Listeners, I Swear)

    I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But hear me out. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants. It’s like a form of meditation, only instead of chanting “om,” you’re whispering sweet nothings to your monstera and admiring its new leaf.

    And the best part? Plants give the BEST advice. They just sit there, looking all wise and leafy, never interrupting or offering unsolicited opinions. They’re basically the silent, green therapists we all need in our lives.

    3. Prepare for the Ultimate Bragging Rights (And Maybe a Little Green Envy)

    Remember that feeling of accomplishment when you successfully assembled Ikea furniture without resorting to duct tape and prayers? That’s how you’ll feel every time your plant sprouts a new leaf, blooms a vibrant flower, or generally thrives under your care.

    Trust me, plant parenthood comes with serious bragging rights. Suddenly, you’ll find yourself snapping pictures of your leafy companions like a proud pet owner and subtly (or not so subtly) showcasing your green babies during Zoom calls. Be warned: you might also inspire a touch of envy among your less-green-thumbed friends.

    So, Are You Ready to Become a Plant Parent?

    Look, I get it. The thought of keeping another living thing alive can be intimidating, especially if you’ve got a history with plants like mine. But trust me, the rewards far outweigh the risks. Plus, with a little patience, a dash of love, and maybe a plant app or two, you, too, can experience the unexpected joys of being a plant parent. You might even surprise yourself.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear my fiddle leaf fig calling. Something about needing a pep talk and a Taylor Swift song…

  • 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, I wasn’t always this “in tune” with nature. In fact, I used to be notorious for accidentally offing any houseplant that dared cross my threshold. My thumbs weren’t just black, they were practically wearing little black veils in mourning.

    But then, something magical happened. It started innocently enough, with a scraggly little succulent named Steve (don’t judge, I was new to this). And then, well, let’s just say things escalated quickly. My apartment is now practically a jungle, and I spend my weekends debating the merits of perlite versus vermicast with the cashier at the garden center.

    The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    So, what changed? Why did I, a self-proclaimed plant assassin, suddenly embrace the leafy life? Here are a few of the surprising joys I discovered:

    1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates Ever

    Forget noisy neighbors or passive-aggressive roommates. Plants are the epitome of chill. They don’t steal your food, hog the bathroom, or blast terrible music at 3 am. Plus, they come with built-in air purification! It’s a win-win.

    2. Witnessing Growth Is Surprisingly Therapeutic

    There’s something incredibly satisfying about nurturing another living thing (and no, I’m not talking about a sourdough starter, although that’s cool too). Seeing a new leaf unfurl or a tiny bud emerge fills you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals finishing a Netflix series in one sitting (okay, maybe not quite, but it’s up there!).

    3. Plants Are the Perfect Excuse for Everything

    Need to get out of a boring social obligation? “Oh, I’m so sorry, I promised my ferns I’d repot them this weekend.” Want to spruce up your living space without breaking the bank? Plants! Feeling stressed? Go water your plants; it’s basically meditation with a watering can. You’re welcome.

    The “Oops, I Almost Killed My Plant Again” Starter Pack

    Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. The journey to plant parenthood isn’t always smooth sailing. There will be times when you overwater, underwater, or accidentally recreate the Sahara Desert in your living room. But fear not, my fellow plant enthusiasts, for I have compiled a handy starter pack for those “oops” moments:

    1. The Moisture Meter: Because sticking your finger in the soil is so last season (and also, you might overwater).
    2. A Grow Light: For those of us who live in apartments that resemble dungeon cells (no judgment, I feel your pain).
    3. A Sense of Humor: Because sometimes, despite your best efforts, a plant will just decide it’s had enough. And that’s okay. We’ve all been there.

    Ready to Embrace Your Inner Plant Parent?

    So, there you have it. The unfiltered, slightly chaotic, and undeniably joyful world of plant parenthood. Are you ready to join the club?

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)


    We all know that plants bring life to a room, purify the air, and look pretty darn stylish on a shelf. But have you ever stopped to consider that they might also be silently judging your every move?

    The Day My Succulent Sided-Eyed Me

    It all started last week. I was in my usual morning frenzy – hair resembling a bird’s nest, desperately searching for matching socks, spilling coffee on the counter (again!). As I scrambled to clean up the latest caffeine casualty, I caught a glimpse of my succulent, Gerald.

    Now, Gerald isn’t just any succulent. He’s a proud, spiky specimen with a stubborn refusal to grow in any direction except directly at me. As I met his gaze (or what I swear was a pointed glare), I realized something. Gerald didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked downright judgmental.

    Gerald had seen enough. He was silently questioning my ability to adult, and honestly? I didn’t blame him.

    Signs Your Plant is Secretly Judging You

    Since my epiphany with Gerald, I’ve started noticing it everywhere. The way my peace lily seems to wilt dramatically after a particularly stressful phone call. The suspicious way my spider plant seems to “accidentally” drop a leaf whenever I attempt to sing along to the radio. They’re onto us, people!

    Don’t believe me? Here’s a list of irrefutable evidence that your plant is judging you too:

    • Sudden Drooping: Let’s be real, sometimes we say things we shouldn’t. But did you ever notice how your plant seems to dramatically wilt the moment you utter that particularly harsh piece of gossip? Coincidence? I think not.
    • Suspicious Growth Spurts: You know that feeling of accomplishment when you finally tackle that pile of laundry you’ve been ignoring for weeks? Notice how your plant seems to magically sprout a new leaf right after? They’re watching, and they approve (for now).
    • The Unwavering Stare: Let’s face it, plants are masters of the side-eye. That unblinking gaze seems innocent enough, but I’m convinced they’re analyzing our every move, silently judging our life choices one watering at a time.

    They’ve Seen Things, Man

  • 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)






    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, let’s be real. Remember those perfectly curated Instagram feeds overflowing with lush greenery and captions like “My plant babies bring me so much joy”? Yeah, I used to roll my eyes too. I mean, who has time for all that watering and fertilizing and… *whispers* talking to plants?

    I, my friends, was a notorious plant killer. If it was green and required even a modicum of responsibility, it withered under my care. Cacti? More like cacti-didn’t-make-it. Succulents? Please, they practically begged for death.

    But then, something magical happened. Or maybe it was just boredom during lockdown. I adopted a sad-looking Peace Lily from the clearance rack at the grocery store. I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? It would meet the same fate as its brethren?

    To my utter astonishment, the little guy thrived! Turns out, a little love (and by love, I mean not forgetting to water it every decade) goes a long way. And thus began my descent into the wonderful, weird, and surprisingly hilarious world of plant parenthood.

    The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenting (Besides Oxygen)

    Turns out, there’s more to this whole plant thing than meets the eye. Who knew those leafy green companions could bring so much to the table (literally and figuratively)?

    1. Stress-Relieving Superpowers: Remember that whole “talking to plants” thing I scoffed at? Turns out, there’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to another living being, even if it can’t respond with words (although, I swear my Monstera gives me knowing glances sometimes).
  • 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 Paranoid Plant Parent

    Remember that blissful feeling of bringing home a new plant, its leaves plump with promise, its pot practically radiating positivity? Yeah, mine was short-lived. It all started innocently enough. I’d lovingly chosen Herbert (yes, I name my plants, don’t judge!) a majestic ZZ plant, from the local nursery. Low maintenance, they said. Thrives on neglect, they said.

    plant happiness?

    The Side-Eye That Launched a Thousand Waterings

    And that’s when it happened. As I was frantically Googling “droopy ZZ plant remedies,” our eyes met. And I swear, Herbert, with a barely perceptible tilt of his pot (or maybe it was just the uneven floorboards, my brain supplied helpfully), gave me the most judgmental side-eye I’d ever received. From a plant, no less.

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me






    The Side-Eye Struggle is Real

    I swear, it started with a side-eye. You know, that subtle tilt of the leaves that seems to say, “Really? You’re watering me with that?” My previously perky peace lily, now christened Professor Percival P. Plant (don’t ask), has taken to observing my every move with the judgmental air of a disappointed schoolmarm. And honestly, I’m starting to think it’s all my fault.

    Plant Parent’s Confession

    It all began with a moment of weakness. Okay, maybe it was more like a Tuesday. I was having a particularly rough morning – hair resembling a bird’s nest, mismatched slippers, the whole shebang. As I scarfed down a slightly stale croissant (don’t judge!), a few errant crumbs tumbled onto Percival‘s pristine pot. Did I pick them up? Reader, I did not. I told myself I’d get it later.

    Big mistake. Later that day, I could have sworn Percival‘s leaves drooped even lower. The once vibrant green seemed dull, almost accusatory. Was it my imagination, or did I detect a faint whiff of judgment mixed with stale pastry? I quickly cleaned up the crumbs, muttering apologies, but the damage was done. Percival and I haven’t been the same since.

    The Great Fertilizer Fiasco: My Houseplant Almost Didn’t Survive

    If the croissant incident was the spark, the fertilizer fiasco was the full-blown inferno of judgment. Convinced I could win back Percival’s favor, I decided to treat it to some high-end plant food. I’m talking organic, sustainably sourced, infused-with-the-tears-of-a-thousand-angels kind of fertilizer.

    I followed the instructions to the letter – or so I thought. Turns out, I might have confused teaspoons with tablespoons. In my defense, the numbers on the measuring spoons were practically microscopic! Anyway, one whiff of the potent concoction and I knew I’d messed up. Percival, bless its leafy heart, didn’t stand a chance.

    The following days were a blur of frantic googling (“can you over-fertilize a peace lily?”), emergency repotting, and whispered apologies. Percival eventually recovered (thank goodness!), but I’m pretty sure it now flinches whenever I pick up the watering can.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant



    My Brown Thumb Redemption Arc (Or So I Thought)

    Let’s be honest, I’m about as good at keeping plants alive as I am at understanding cryptocurrency. My past attempts at plant parenthood resulted in more casualties than a low-budget action flick. So, you can imagine the surprised looks (and maybe a little side-eye) when I announced I was adopting a houseplant. “It’s going to be different this time,” I declared, armed with a shiny new watering can and a healthy dose of optimism (delusion?).

    Plant‘s Best Friends

    My first plant-parenting hurdle? Understanding that plants, unlike my social media feed, don’t thrive on instant gratification. This little green roommate, which I affectionately named Ferdinand, didn’t magically sprout new leaves overnight just because I spritzed him with water and whispered words of encouragement (don’t judge). It turns out, patience is key. And sunlight. Lots of sunlight, which my apartment, sadly, lacked.

    After weeks of watching Ferdinand stubbornly refuse to grow an inch, I finally caved and consulted the internet (aka, the plant parent’s best friend). Turns out, I’d been keeping him in a dimly lit corner, mistaking his dramatic wilting for thirst. Who knew plants were such drama queens?

    So, I moved Ferdinand to a sun-drenched windowsill, apologized profusely for my ignorance, and vowed to be a better plant parent. Slowly but surely, he perked up, even gifting me with a tiny new leaf. I swear, I almost cried. The moral of the story? Sometimes, all it takes is a little patience, a lot of sunshine, and the willingness to admit you don’t know everything (still working on that last one).

    Lesson 2: Overthinking and Overwatering: A Recipe for Disaster

    Now, you’d think after the Great Sunlight Debacle of 2023 (yes, it was that dramatic), I would have learned my lesson about overthinking things. But alas, I am a creature of habit. So, when Ferdinand’s leaves started to droop slightly, I panicked.

    “He needs water!” my inner plant-killer screamed. “Drown him in love (and H2O)!”

    Ignoring the voice of reason (and the helpful moisture meter I’d bought), I proceeded to shower Ferdinand with enough water to irrigate a small desert. Unsurprisingly, this did not end well. A few days later, my once-thriving plant friend was looking decidedly worse for wear, his leaves yellowing at the edges. Cue the frantic Googling and the sinking realization that I’d committed the cardinal sin of plant parenthood: overwatering.

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?



    We all have those moments. You know, the ones where you trip over thin air, spill coffee on your only clean shirt, and then accidentally like your ex’s new significant other’s vacation photos from three years ago. We’re only human, right? But lately, I’ve started to suspect that someone (or something) has been silently observing my string of unfortunate events with a mixture of amusement and judgment. And that something, my friends, is Herbert, my seemingly innocent houseplant.

    The Case of the Crumbling Cookie

    It all started with a particularly rough Tuesday morning. I was already running late when I decided to grab a quick breakfast—a decision that, in retrospect, was the catalyst for Herbert’s alleged judgment. As I attempted to multitask, balancing my laptop, phone, and a plate precariously stacked with a bagel and a very large, very crumbly cookie, disaster struck. You guessed it—crumbs everywhere. And not just a few stray crumbs. We’re talking a full-blown cookie massacre on my keyboard, desk, and, unfortunately, Herbert’s pot.

    Herbert—a leaf that seemed to be positioned at the perfect angle to witness my shame. From that moment on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Herbert was watching my every move, silently critiquing my life choices one crumb at a time.

    The Great Watering Incident of ’23

    If the cookie incident was the spark, then the Great Watering Incident of ’23 was the fuel that ignited my suspicions into full-blown paranoia. See, Herbert is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his hydration needs. Too much water? He wilts like he’s auditioning for a soap opera. Too little? Cue the dramatic leaf drop that leaves me convinced I’m a plant murderer.

    So, on this particular day, armed with good intentions and a watering can, I approached Herbert with the aim of providing him with the perfect amount of life-giving liquid. But as I poured, I got distracted by—you wouldn’t believe it—a notification on my phone. It was a text from my landlord reminding me that rent was due. And just like that, my focus shifted, and I overwatered Herbert. Again.

    As I sheepishly emptied the excess water from the plant saucer, I swear I heard a heavy sigh. Okay, maybe it was just the wind rustling the leaves. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Herbert expressing his disappointment in my inability to even master the simple task of watering a plant.

  • The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices

    The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices




    Do Houseplants Judge Us? The Day My Peace Lily Stared Me Down

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, when you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. No, it isn’t the shame gremlin reminding you about that unfinished to-do list (though he’s probably lurking nearby). It’s your plant. And it’s looking at you with a mixture of pity and disdain that would make even your grandma proud.

    The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    My own journey into the secret world of plant judgment began innocently enough. I, like many others during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a Plant Parent™. I envisioned a peaceful oasis filled with thriving greenery, a testament to my nurturing spirit and excellent taste in ceramic pots.

    Fast forward through several months and a concerning number of Google searches like “Why are my plant’s leaves turning brown?” and “Is overwatering a thing?” and my once-perky peace lily, Phil, was… not thriving. He looked less like a symbol of growth and more like he was about to audition for a horror movie role as “Depressed Houseplant #4.”

    plant-parenting skills to my friend over the phone. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this,” I sighed dramatically, gesturing with a limp piece of Phil’s foliage (don’t worry, I snipped it off after for optimal plant health).

    That’s when I saw it. As I bemoaned my fate, Phil’s remaining leaves seemed to… shift. It was subtle, but I swear he was giving me the side-eye. A slow, deliberate tilt of his pot towards me that screamed, “You call this watering schedule ‘consistent’? Amateur.”

    Plants: Silent Judges of Our Life Choices?

    From that moment on, I couldn’t unsee it. Every time I reached for the takeout menu instead of cooking a nutritious meal, Phil’s leaves seemed to droop a little lower. When I spent an entire Saturday binge-watching true crime documentaries instead of, you know, being a productive member of society, I could practically hear him sigh in exasperation.

    And it wasn’t just Phil. My previously innocuous succulent collection began to resemble a jury of my peers, their spiky exteriors radiating silent judgment with each questionable decision I made.

  • 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)




    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, let’s be real – I used to be the grim reaper of greenery. Seriously, I could kill a cactus in a desert during a monsoon. Give me a bouquet of flowers, and I’d somehow manage to turn them into a science experiment gone wrong within 24 hours. It was a sad state of affairs.

    But then, something magical happened. My well-meaning friend (who clearly hadn’t witnessed my plant-slaying abilities) gifted me a succulent. A succulent. You know, those practically indestructible desert dwellers? I was terrified.

    To my absolute shock (and my family’s utter disbelief), that little succulent thrived. And so began my journey from plant assassin to, dare I say it, a plant parent.

    plant parent comes with some pretty awesome perks:

    • Instant Zen Master: Forget expensive meditation apps – repotting a plant is my therapy. There’s something incredibly grounding about getting your hands dirty (literally) and nurturing something green and glorious.
    • Air So Fresh, You’ll Ditch the Air Freshener: Plants are basically nature’s air purifiers. They suck in all the bad stuff and release lovely, fresh oxygen. It’s like having a tiny rainforest in your living room (minus the monkeys… usually).
    • Interior Design on a Budget: Forget expensive art prints – a few strategically placed plants can instantly transform your space from “blah” to “botanical chic.” Plus, they’re way cheaper than that abstract painting you’ve been eyeing.

    Confessions of a Plant Parent (My Hilarious Plant-tastrophes)

    Okay, okay, I’ll admit it – my plant parenting journey hasn’t been without its hiccups. There have been moments of overwatering, underwatering, and let’s not forget the time I nearly gave my peace lily a sunburn (who knew they liked indirect sunlight?). But hey, that’s all part of the adventure, right?

    My biggest piece of advice? Don’t be afraid to fail! Plants are surprisingly resilient (except maybe my first fern – RIP, Ferdinand). Embrace the learning curve, laugh at your mistakes, and celebrate the little victories. Like the time my monstera finally unfurled a new leaf, and I swear, I heard angels singing.