Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: relatable

  • The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry

    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry




    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry

    We all have those mundane tasks that make up the rhythm of our lives. For some, it’s washing dishes. For others, it’s mowing the lawn. For me, it’s laundry. Yes, that weekly (or, let’s be honest, bi-weekly) grapple with Mount Washmore sends my mind down some truly bizarre rabbit holes.

    From Dirty Socks to the Meaning of Life

    Just the other day, I was staring into the abyss of my laundry basket, contemplating the sheer volume of clothing I wear in a week (spoiler alert: it’s a lot), when it hit me. What does it all mean? Like, here I am, meticulously sorting socks (because, yes, I’m that person), and for what? So I can wear them again and repeat the cycle? Is this the circle of life Simba was singing about?

    Sock Mystery: Where Do Missing Socks Go?

    We’ve all been there. You put two socks in the washer, but somehow, only one emerges from the dryer. It’s like the Bermuda Triangle, but for socks. Where do they go? Do they have tiny sock passports and decide to elope? Are there sock monsters living in my dryer vents? The world may never know.

    The truly frustrating part is that the remaining sock, now a lonely bachelor, is basically useless. I mean, what am I going to do with a single sock? Wear it on my hand like a sock puppet? Start a sock-puppet theater dedicated to solving the mystery of its missing mate? The possibilities are endless, yet strangely unappealing.

  • The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)


    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through Instagram at midnight, stumbling upon a post of some impossibly perfect human who’s already finished their morning yoga, green smoothie, and daily meditation before the sun even thinks about rising.

    And in that moment, bathed in the pale glow of our phone screens, we think, “I could be like that! I could be a morning person!”

    The Pact I Made with the Devil (aka My Alarm Clock)

    My attempt to join the ranks of chipper morning people started innocently enough. It was a particularly brutal Monday morning, the kind where even my coffee looked at me with pity. I was running late, hair a mess, tripping over my own feet, and desperately trying to find my keys (spoiler alert: they were in the fridge).

    That’s when I decided, “Enough is enough! I’m going to become a morning person, conquer the day, and be the envy of all who cross my path!”

  • 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 a Ficus

    Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on your stomach. You glance up, and there it is: that look. You know the one— a mixture of disappointment and disdain— from your houseplant. Okay, maybe I’m projecting, but hear me out. My ficus, Ferdinand, has been throwing some serious shade my way lately, and I’m convinced it’s because he secretly judges my life choices.

    maybe that was just the wind.

    Exhibit B: The Curious Incident of the Takeout Containers

    I’ll admit, I have a weakness for takeout. Pad thai on Tuesday? Why not! Sushi on Friday? Obviously! But apparently, Ferdinand finds my culinary choices appalling. I can practically hear him tut-tutting as I unpack yet another styrofoam container, his leaves rustling in disapproval. “Honestly,” he seems to murmur, “a salad wouldn’t kill you.”

  • The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry

    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry




    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry


    We all have those chores, the ones we do on autopilot while our brains are off somewhere else entirely. For some people, it’s washing dishes. For others, it’s mowing the lawn. For me? It’s the mystical, magical act of doing laundry.

    The Curious Case of the Vanishing Sock: A Laundry Room Mystery

    Just last week, I was folding laundry—a towering mountain of fluffy towels and precariously balanced t-shirts—when it hit me. I was holding one sock, a lonely, orphaned sock, with no match in sight. It was at that moment, surrounded by the remnants of a week’s worth of outfits, that I questioned the very fabric of reality. Where do all the missing socks go? Is there some sort of interdimensional portal that opens up in my dryer, snatching away socks at random?

    laundry basket? The possibilities were both exhilarating and slightly unsettling.

    The Life Cycle of a T-Shirt: A Laundry Perspective

    Another time, while separating colors from whites (an art form, I assure you), I found myself pondering the life cycle of a t-shirt. From its pristine, just-bought state to its eventual retirement as a cleaning rag, each stain, tear, and faded logo tells a story.

    There’s the “first date” shirt, carefully chosen and wrinkle-free, that now bears the faintest hint of spilled wine (a successful first date, I’d like to think). Then there’s the “I-spent-all-day-baking” shirt, dusted with flour and smeared with chocolate, a testament to a day well spent. And of course, who could forget the “I-have-no-idea-what-this-stain-is-but-it’s-definitely-permanent” shirt, a badge of honor worn with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.

    Each shirt, a silent chronicle of life’s messy, beautiful moments. And I, the humble laundry-doer, am tasked with the sacred duty of preserving these stories, one wash cycle at a time.

    The Great Laundry Basket Time Warp: Does Laundry Fold Space and Time?

    But perhaps the most profound thought I’ve ever had while doing laundry struck me during the arduous task of putting away clean clothes. As I meticulously folded shirts, paired socks (successfully, I might add), and hung dresses, I realized something unsettling: time moves differently in the laundry basket.

  • The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The 5 AM Alarm Clock Debacle

    Let me set the scene: 4:58 AM. My alarm clock, which I had lovingly nicknamed “The Rooster” (due to its earsplitting crowing sound), decided to unleash its fury upon my peaceful slumber. Now, for most normal, functioning members of society, this would be a sign to rise and shine. For me, it was more akin to a horror movie jump scare.

    You see, I, my friends, am not a morning person. I’m more of a “let’s stay up late watching documentaries about the mating habits of deep-sea creatures” kind of person. But, like a moth to a flame (or perhaps more accurately, a zombie to brains), I was drawn to the seductive idea of becoming a morning person.

    tried it.

    The results were…mixed. I did manage to stay awake (for the most part), but I also developed a nervous twitch and an uncanny ability to hear colors.

  • The Time I Tried to Learn a TikTok Dance (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Learn a TikTok Dance (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried (and Failed) to Learn a TikTok Dance

    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through TikTok, mesmerized by those seemingly effortless dance routines, and thinking, “Hey, I could do that!” That’s precisely where my journey into the world of TikTok dances began – with a healthy dose of delusion and a sprinkle of “how hard could it be?”

    It all started innocently enough. My friend showed me this adorable dance trend set to a catchy pop song. The moves looked simple, almost deceptively so. A little shimmy here, a playful head bob there – I, a self-proclaimed rhythm enthusiast (read: I occasionally sway on beat), was ready to conquer this challenge.

    Dance Fail: The Struggle Was Real

    Armed with unwavering confidence and my phone propped up against a stack of books, I hit record. And that’s when things took a turn. Remember that “simple” shimmy? Turns out it required more coordination than I, a person who trips over air, possessed. The “playful head bob?” Let’s just say I looked like a confused woodpecker trying to find its next meal.

    My attempts were a symphony of awkward angles, mistimed steps, and expressions that could only be described as “deer caught in headlights.” My living room transformed into a stage for a comedy of errors, with me as the (unintentional) star clown. I’m pretty sure my cat even hid under the couch out of sheer embarrassment.

  • The Great Sock Drawer Debacle: Or, Why I’m Officially Out of Matches (Again)

    The Great Sock Drawer Debacle: Or, Why I’m Officially Out of Matches (Again)




    The Great Sock Drawer Debacle: Or, Why I’m Officially Out of Matches (Again)


    The Case of the Vanishing Stripes

    Let me set the scene: It’s 6:45 AM, my alarm is blaring an obnoxious pop song, and I’m already running late. I stumble to my dresser, yank open the drawer, and stare into the abyss that is my sock collection. It’s a jumbled mess of mismatched colors and patterns, each sock seemingly mocking my inability to find its mate.

    sock society where they meet up and laugh at our laundry woes? I’m convinced there’s a portal in my dryer leading directly to the Lost Sock Dimension.

    The Suspects: Who’s Stealing My Socks?

    Over the years, I’ve developed a few theories about the great sock disappearance. Allow me to present the usual suspects:

    1. The Laundry Monster: This mythical creature lurks in the depths of washing machines, snatching socks with its slimy tentacles and dragging them into the abyss. (Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the stories!)
    2. The Sock Goblin: This mischievous imp sneaks into homes under the cover of night, swapping socks and leaving behind a trail of chaos. (I blame him for the time I accidentally wore one striped sock and one polka-dot sock to work.)
    3. The Fabric Vortex: This scientific anomaly (okay, maybe not) explains how socks mysteriously teleport themselves to a parallel universe where everyone has perfectly matched socks. (I’m not bitter…much.)
  • The Time I Tried to be a ‘Morning Person’ (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to be a ‘Morning Person’ (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)

    We’ve all seen them – those infuriatingly chipper morning people who practically skip out of bed with the sunrise, chirping about how “great it is to be up early!” Meanwhile, I’m usually peeling myself out of bed after hitting snooze for the tenth time, wondering if it’s socially acceptable to wear pajamas to work.

    The Pact (and My Unrealistic Expectations)

    My journey into the supposed utopia of early rising began, as most bad decisions do, with a conversation over coffee – well, more accurately, over my third cup of coffee while my friend, let’s call her Sunshine Sally, sipped her green smoothie.

    “You know,” Sally chirped, “You’d be so much more productive if you woke up early!”

    Thus began our pact. We’d both wake up at 6 am, go for a jog, and have a healthy breakfast. I even bought a juicer.

    person: energized, productive, and maybe even capable of making my own sourdough bread before work.

    Day 1: The Alarm Clock Becomes My Nemesis

    The first morning arrived, and my alarm clock (which I swear was judging me) blared its obnoxious wake-up call. I stumbled out of bed, feeling like I had just fallen asleep. My attempt at a “jog” resembled something closer to a zombie shuffle.

    Sally, naturally, was already back from her run, looking annoyingly refreshed. She greeted me with a perky, “Good morning! How was your run?”

    I mumbled something about “enjoying the fresh air” while mentally composing a strongly worded letter to the inventor of the alarm clock.

    Day 3: The Great Coffee Caper

    The next few days followed a similar pattern of sleep deprivation and failed attempts at athleticism. By day three, I was running on fumes and caffeine. I even resorted to hiding emergency coffee stashes around my apartment for those pre-dawn moments of desperation.

  • 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.

  • The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Folding Laundry

    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Folding Laundry





    Deep Thoughts While Folding Laundry: Finding Meaning in Mundane Tasks

    We all have those mundane tasks that somehow unlock the deepest parts of our brains. You know, like staring at a blank wall and suddenly understanding the meaning of life? For me, it’s folding laundry.

    From Wrinkled Clothes to Wrinkled Brains: Life Lessons from Laundry

    Just the other day, I was wrestling with a particularly stubborn fitted sheet (don’t even get me started on those!), when BAM! It hit me. Life is a lot like doing laundry. We go through cycles of being crumpled, tossed around, and feeling lost. But with a little effort (and maybe some fabric softener), we come out the other side feeling fresh, organized, and ready to take on the world.

    Sock: Musings on Relationships and Loss

    Then there are the socks. Oh, the socks! How many times have I pulled out a single sock, its mate lost to the mysterious abyss of the dryer? It makes you ponder the nature of relationships, doesn’t it? Are we all destined to wander alone, forever searching for our other half?

    Or maybe, just maybe, that missing sock is out there, living its best life, sock-footed and fancy-free. Who knows, maybe it even found a new partner – one with fewer holes and a better sense of adventure.

    Tiny Socks, Big Thoughts: Reflecting on Life’s Journey

    And speaking of adventure, folding those tiny baby socks? Talk about a rollercoaster of emotions! One minute, I’m overcome with cuteness overload, and the next, I’m struck by the sheer enormity of it all. Those tiny socks represent tiny feet, taking tiny steps into a great big world. It’s enough to make you want to grab your kid (or your cat, no judgment here), hold them close, and whisper, “Don’t grow up too fast, little one. The world is a scary place, full of lost socks and unfolded laundry.”

    Ironing Out Life’s Wrinkles: Finding Beauty in the Everyday

    But here’s the thing about laundry – and maybe about life itself – even with all its wrinkles and missing socks, it’s ultimately a good thing. It’s a sign of a life lived, a life filled with adventures, mishaps, and maybe even a few too many takeout dinners. So the next time you find yourself staring down a mountain of laundry, don’t despair. Embrace the chaos. Embrace the wrinkles. And who knows, you might just stumble upon a profound thought or two along the way.