Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant judging

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon you swore you’d never watch, and your eyes meet those of your houseplant. You know, the one you PROMISED you’d water regularly and re-pot when it got rootbound? Yeah, that one. And in that moment, you just KNOW. It’s judging you.

    When My Fiddle Leaf Fig Threw Shade (Literally)

    My personal journey into the secret world of judgmental houseplants began with Ferdinand, my majestic fiddle leaf fig. Now, Ferdinand is a drama queen of the highest order. Give him a little too much sun? Scorched leaves. Not enough humidity? Cue the dramatic leaf drop that would make a soap opera star proud.

    But this time was different. I was in the midst of a particularly disastrous online dating spree, fueled by questionable wine choices and even more questionable swiping decisions. As I recounted the latest cringe-worthy date story to my friend, I noticed Ferdinand’s leaves seemed…droopy. Not just regular thirsty-droopy, but a special kind of I-can’t-even-look-at-you-right-now droopy.

  • 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.

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

    The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices



    The Day My Plant Judged My Life Choices: A Hilarious Tale of Green Guilt

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch in your oldest sweatpants, a half-eaten bag of chips dangerously close to becoming your dinner, binge-watching reality TV for the third hour straight. It’s fine, you tell yourself, everyone needs a night off. But then, you catch it. A flash of green in the corner of your eye. You turn your head slowly, and there it is: your plant, leaves perfectly perched, silently judging your every move.

    The Shameful Stare of a Fiddle Leaf Fig

    My personal journey into the secretly judgmental world of plants began with Ferdinand, my fiddle leaf fig. Now, Ferdinand isn’t just any plant. He’s a drama queen, a diva, a green-leafed emperor who demands constant attention and the perfect amount of indirect sunlight. I, on the other hand, am… well, let’s just say my life doesn’t always scream “responsible plant parent.”

    It was a Tuesday, I think. Or maybe a Wednesday? Honestly, the days all blur together when you’re existing solely on caffeine and the promise of ordering takeout later. I was in my usual state of post-work slump, scrolling through social media with the attention span of a goldfish. Ferdinand was basking in his usual spot by the window, looking effortlessly elegant as always.

    Suddenly, I felt a shift in the atmosphere. A prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I looked up, and that’s when I saw it. Ferdinand’s leaves seemed to be… drooping? Was he wilting? Panicking, I scrambled for my watering can, only to realize I’d forgotten to refill it (again). As I sheepishly filled the can, I could have sworn Ferdinand let out a dramatic sigh. Okay, maybe not a sigh, but there was definitely some serious side-eye happening.