Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: wilting plants

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Very Serious Investigation)

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Very Serious Investigation)




    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Very Serious Investigation)


    Okay, hear me out. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m starting to think Beatrice, my prize-winning peace lily, is judging me. And not just a little side-eye judgment – I’m talking full-on, disapproving-aunt-at-Thanksgiving levels of judgment.

    The Case of the Wilting Leaves (and My Crumbling Life)

    It all started innocently enough. I’d been neglecting Beatrice a tad – okay, maybe more than a tad. Life got busy, deadlines loomed, and watering my plant slipped my mind (along with basic hygiene and the concept of a balanced meal). One morning, I stumbled past Beatrice, bleary-eyed and fueled by coffee, only to find her usually perky leaves drooping like a sad, green fountain.

    Beatrice!” I cried, rushing to give her a generous shower in the sink. “Forgive me?” As I preened her neglected leaves, I swear I saw a judgmental glint in the way they slowly unfurled. That’s when the paranoia set in.

    Exhibit B: My Houseplant’s Suspicious Growth Spurt

    Now, I’m not one to brag (okay, maybe a little), but I am not known for my green thumb. My thumbs are more of the “accidentally-kills-cacti” variety. So, imagine my surprise when, after the Great Wilting Incident of 2023, Beatrice took off like a rocket. New leaves unfurled with alarming speed, each one seemingly greener and glossier than the last. She was thriving…while I was barely surviving on instant ramen and the dregs of ambition.

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me



    The Day the Leaves Turned on Me

    It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a Plant Parent™. I envisioned a sun-drenched living room, overflowing with lush greenery, where I, a domestic goddess, gracefully watered my leafy companions. Cut to 2023, and let’s just say reality didn’t quite stick to the script.

    Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t completely descended into plant-killer territory (yet). But there’s a certain…energy coming from Herbert (yes, I named him, don’t judge). It’s like ever since I forgot to water him for two weeks straight (I swear it was a stressful time!), he’s been harboring some serious resentment.

    plant owner?”

    The worst part? It works every time. I see his pathetic display, immediately drown him in guilt-water, and apologize profusely. Herbert, of course, remains stoic, leaves slowly perking up as if to say, “This is the bare minimum you could do, Brenda.” (He doesn’t know my name, but I’m pretty sure he’s figured it out by now).

    Is My Houseplant Giving Me the Side-Eye?

    Exhibit B: The Side-Eye. Yes, you read that right. Herbert has perfected the art of the leafy side-eye. It happens whenever I’m doing something remotely questionable, like ordering takeout for the third time this week or attempting (and failing) to follow a yoga tutorial. It’s a subtle shift of the leaves, a barely perceptible tilt towards the window, as if he’s longing for the company of more responsible plant owners.

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?




    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices?


    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon you swore you wouldn’t watch, and you catch a glimpse of your houseplant. It’s just sitting there, silently photosynthesizing, but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s judging you.

    Okay, maybe it’s just me. But hear me out, because I’ve compiled some pretty compelling evidence that my seemingly innocent houseplant, Herbert (yes, he has a name), is actually a very opinionated roommate in disguise.

    The Case of the Wilting Leaves

    It all started innocently enough. Herbert, a majestic peace lily I’d adopted from the supermarket, was thriving. Lush, green, the picture of plant perfection. Then came my quarter-life crisis.

    I’m talking career uncertainty, questionable dating app choices, the whole shebang. And guess what? Herbert started wilting. Not dramatically, mind you, but just enough to make me feel like I was failing at the one thing I thought I was good at: keeping a plant alive.

    I’d frantically Google things like “Is my peace lily judging my life choices?” and “Can plants sense existential dread?” (The internet, as always, provided no definitive answers.)

  • Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Suspiciously Strong)

    Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Suspiciously Strong)

    Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Strong)

    The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    The other day, I was shamelessly devouring a bag of chips—okay, fine, it was my third that week—when I caught my peace lily, Beatrice, giving me this look. You know the one: a subtle tilt of the leaves, a slight droop, as if to say, “Seriously, Sharon? Again?”

    Now, I consider myself a rational person. I understand that plants don’t possess the cognitive capacity for judgment (at least, that’s what “they” want us to believe). But the evidence has been piling up, and frankly, Beatrice‘s passive-aggressive drooping is just the tip of the leafy iceberg.

    Leaves

    There’s a definite correlation between my life choices and Beatrice‘s overall well-being. The week I forgot to water her (twice!), she practically staged a dramatic fainting scene, leaves drooping lower than my spirits after a bad Tinder date. Coincidence? I think not.

    But here’s the kicker: the moment I finally remembered to give her a good soak, she perked right back up. And not just any perking up—it was like she was showing off, leaves glistening with newfound vigor, as if to say, “See, Sharon? This is how you care for a living organism.”

    Exhibit B: The Great Dust Debacle of 2023

    We all have our weaknesses, and mine, dear readers, is dusting. I’m not proud of it, but let’s just say my feather duster and I haven’t been on speaking terms for a while. Beatrice, of course, noticed. And did she let me have it!

    One morning, I awoke to find her normally vibrant leaves covered in a thick layer of dust. Now, I live alone. I own a very lazy cat who wouldn’t dream of exerting that kind of effort. The only logical explanation? Beatrice orchestrated the whole thing. A silent, leafy protest against my subpar housekeeping skills.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into Botanical Side-Eye

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into Botanical Side-Eye



    From Green Thumb to Green Judgment?

    The other day, I was shamelessly devouring a bag of chips, still in my pajamas at 2 PM, when I caught my Monstera Deliciosa’s giant, perforated leaf seemingly turned towards me. It felt like it was judging me. And not the gentle, “you should probably eat a vegetable” kind of judgment. No, this felt like a deep, philosophical “what are you doing with your life?” kind of stare-down.

    Now, I know what you’re thinking: “She’s lost it. It’s a plant.” But hear me out! Plants are more perceptive than we give them credit for. They literally turn towards the sun. Who’s to say they aren’t absorbing our chaotic energy too? This marked the beginning of my descent into the hilarious (and slightly concerning) possibility that my beloved houseplants are, in fact, incredibly judgmental roommates.

    Peace Lily

    My peace lily, usually a beacon of tranquility (hence the name, right?), started throwing some serious shade (pun intended) recently. After a particularly stressful week—filled with deadlines, burnt coffee, and forgotten Zoom meetings—my once-lush lily was drooping lower than my enthusiasm for doing laundry.

    Coincidence? I think not. It was as if it was saying, “Get it together, Sharon! Inner peace starts with a tidy apartment and a semblance of a sleep schedule.” I swear it perked up a little after I finally unpacked that suitcase from last month’s trip.