Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: plant personality

  • 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.

  • 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”?

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

    Is My Houseplant Silently 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 true crime documentary marathon, when you suddenly feel a presence. You glance around, expecting to see a nosy neighbor peering through the window, but then you lock eyes with… your houseplant. And in that moment, you just know it’s judging you.

    Does Your Houseplant Give You the Side-Eye?

    Okay, maybe “judging” is a strong word. But I swear, my Monstera Deliciosa, Ferdinand, has perfected the art of the side-eye. It’s especially potent when I’m indulging in my less-than-ideal habits. You know, like attempting (and failing) to make three-course meals from those meal kit services, or letting laundry pile up until it resembles Mount Washmore.

    Ferdinand‘s leaves drooping lower than usual. Coincidence? I think not. He’d heard my cynical commentary and decided love was officially dead.

    My Plant’s Perfect Routine vs. My Chaotic Life

    Another reason for my suspicions? Ferdinand is the epitome of consistency. He thrives on routine, soaking up his weekly watering and basking in the sunlight streaming through my living room window. I, on the other hand, am more of a “fly by the seat of my pants” kind of gal. My sleep schedule is a suggestion, my diet is questionable at best, and my apartment cleaning routine? Let’s just say Ferdinand has witnessed things…

    He’s like the silent, leafy embodiment of all the things I should be doing: drinking enough water, getting eight hours of sleep, maybe even developing a green thumb of my own (a girl can dream, right?).

    Did My Houseplant Just Show Signs of Approval?

    And then there’s the evidence that really solidified my theory. A few weeks ago, after a particularly productive day where I actually, you know, adult-ed, I noticed something amazing. Ferdinand had sprouted a new leaf! It was vibrant green, reaching towards the sunlight like a tiny, triumphant flag.

  • 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




    The Time My Fiddle Leaf Fig Almost Called Me Out

    I swear it happened. I was about to indulge in my third consecutive night of takeout pizza (don’t judge, adulting is hard!) when I caught my fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, subtly shaking his…leaves? Branches? Whatever you call them. It was the kind of shake a disappointed parent gives when their child announces they’re dropping out of med school to pursue a career in mime artistry. Okay, maybe I was projecting, but the judgment felt real, people.

    Exhibit A: The Dramatic Wilt

    Ferdinand is a drama queen trapped in a leafy green body. Forget forgetting to water him for a day; a slight dip in humidity sends this guy into a tailspin of despair. His leaves droop lower than my motivation on a Monday morning, practically begging for a therapist and a glass of plant-based Pinot Grigio. And you know what the worst part is? I swear he perks up just a little too quickly after I water him, like he’s saying, “Oh, NOW you decide to pay attention to my needs?”

    Ferdinand magically transforms from a sulky teenager into a thriving botanical masterpiece. New leaves unfurl overnight, his stems stand tall, and he practically glows with an “I woke up like this” confidence. Coincidence? I think not. It’s like he’s trying to impress my friends and whisper, “See, she’s not a complete disaster. Sometimes.”

    Ferdinand isn’t about to pen a tell-all exposé on my questionable life choices (though the thought is terrifyingly amusing), there’s something undeniably relatable about feeling silently judged by our houseplants. Maybe it’s their stoic silence, their unwavering presence in our messy lives, or maybe, just maybe, it’s the tiny voice in the back of our heads reminding us to eat a vegetable every now and then.

    So, tell me, dear readers, am I alone in this hilarious delusion, or have your leafy companions also mastered the art of silent judgment? Share your stories in the comments below!


  • 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)

    The Side-Eye Started With a Spider Plant

    Let me preface this by saying I’m a reasonably responsible plant parent. I don’t overwater, I don’t underwater (much), and I even attempt to mimic the tropical humidity my plant children crave. But lately, my spider plant, Herbert, has been acting…off.

    It started subtly. A slight droop on days I slept in. A perky resurgence when I finally unpacked that box of “decorative gourds” I’d been meaning to display. But then things escalated.

    Exhibit A: The Case of the Dramatic Wilt

    Remember that “decorative gourd” display? Turns out, it was less “charming autumnal vignette” and more “breeding ground for fruit flies.” I battled those tiny winged demons for a solid week, a period during which Herbert staged what can only be described as a theatrical performance of despair.

    plant equivalent of “I haven’t slept in days.” The moment the last fruit fly met its demise? Herbert perked up like he’d just won the plant lottery. Coincidence? I think not.

    Exhibit B: The Suspicious Growth Spurt

    Now, I’m not saying I need validation from a houseplant, but I’d be lying if I said a little plant-based ego boost didn’t feel nice. Which brings me to Herbert’s suspicious growth spurt.

    It happened after I successfully propagated a new plant from a cutting. One day, Herbert was your average, slightly judgmental spider plant. The next? He was a verdant fountain of foliage, practically bursting with new growth and even – dare I say it – pride.