The English Maximalista

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, a fabulous modern princess nicknamed the English Maximalista owned a pretty little 2-piece Wedgwood china chocolate pot in the Lugano Pattern.

It lived happily on a shelf at her home in Wisconsin. Dearly loved, even if it was seldom used: it brought joy to the heart of the English Maximalista, who slept well at night in the knowledge that whenever she fancied hot chocolate, there was a beautiful receptacle in which to pour it from.

One day, Mr and Mrs English Maximalista decided to make a Big Move 1,000 miles across the Wild West, to a mountainous region called “Colorado”.

This Big Move was an enormous endeavour, because the English Maximalista has a lot of stuff. Although in ungracious moments, Mr Maximalista would refer to her stuff as a different single-syllabled “S” word. His wife LOVED clothes. And books. Tableware. Shoes. You know, all the usual accoutrements one needs to live a fabulous life.

In the scramble to move across America, the lid to the chocolate pot disappeared, and in her distress, the English Maximalista broken-heartedly accused her husband of leaving it on the shelf in Wisconsin.

Many of her evenings were spent in distress, thinking about that poor little orphaned lid, sitting all alone, feeling unloved, on a dark shelf, a thousand miles away from its other half.

Nevertheless, the bottom part of the chocolate pot remained useful, even without its lid, as it could still be used as a jug; it even sometimes floated around the house doing duty as a flower vase. The Wedgwood Lugano chocolate pot was always in the background, being pretty.

One day, many moons after the Big Move to “Colorado”, the English Maximalista was sorting through a dark cupboard, and deep in the back found a dusty box labeled CANDLESTICKS. Carefully unwrapping the contents, lo and behold, there sat the lid to the chocolate pot!!!

The English Maximalista was ecstatic. She had to momentarily quell her joy, however, because Mr Maximalista was on a conference call with the King, to whom he owed his fealty. (The King gave a portion of his wealth in return for 40+ hours of Mr M’s attention each week.)

Once the conference call was over, the English Maximalista sobbed for forgiveness from her husband, for her wrongful accusations regarding the mis-packed chocolate pot lid.

Fortunately, Mr Maximalista forgave his wife. “There, there”, he said, patting her on the head with loving condescension.

And they lived happily ever after.

That is, until a few moments later, when the English Maximalista went looking for the bottom part of the chocolate pot, which had been knocking about the house for many moons, but had now seemingly disappeared. 

“What kind of SORCERY is this?” she pondered, wide-eyed with craziness and/or slit-eyed with fury. Sometimes both at the same time.

Over the course of several days, the English Maximalista searched high and low, in every corner of their home. She looked in all the usual places. She looked in all the UNusual places. That darling little chocolate pot was nowhere to be found. It was all to no avail: it had gone.

And so, once again, our heroine was distraught and inconsolably trapped in that sad, middle-class nightmare of having once more lost half of her Wedgwood chocolate pot.

The End.

*****

Dear Mr Maximalista,

My darling husband. 

Please accept my most GENUINE apologies for wrongfully accusing you of neglecting to pack the lid to my Wedgwood chocolate pot, when we moved.

I am sorry for subjecting you to sarcasm, and for the verbal abuse you have endured from me on this unpleasant matter for this past year.

(There. Happy now?)

With all my love, forever and ever, as long as we both shall live,

The English Maximalista xo

PS Darling, you CAN tell me if you accidentally donated my chocolate pot to Goodwill. I promise I won’t be mad.

Lots of love,

M xo