The English Maximalista

It is Friday, and Mr Maximalista has an appointment, so today is one of those rare days for me: I HAVE THE ENTIRE HOUSE TO MYSELF!!

Well, except for Sadie, of course. My furry little sidekick, cute bestie, and enormous pain in my arse.

So. What does an English Maximalista do, when she is left to her own devices? Basically, I can tell you in four short words: Not. A. Whole. Lot.

After I spent a quiet moment caffeinating myself whilst reading the newspapers, I proceeded to do everything else except for doing what I should have been doing. Ergo, writing this here blog. 

Laundry is done. Kitchen is clean. Bed is made. I have abluted myself. Next thing I knew, it was 11:30. Oops. Best get to it.

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First of all, I thought I would begin by taking a few photos of my bedroom, before starting to write about it. Par for the course, Sadie decided she would accompany me, and magically appear in front of wherever I happened to be pointing the camera.

Hence most of the pictures have Sadie in them. Like it or lump it.

This got me to thinking about how Sadie assumes ownership of simply everything in this house. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the garbage; if she can get at it, then it belongs to her. Same with every surface in the house. If she can plop down on it — or jump on it and then plop down on it — then it, too, belongs to her.

Such is the case in our bedroom. When Mr M and I moved to Colorado, we bought new mattresses for all the beds. A fresh start, and all that. We kept our old bed frames to put in the spare bedrooms, but treated ourselves to a brand new king size bed.

Except our brand new king size bed is barely big enough for myself and my 6’4” husband. Why on earth is that, you ask? Well, it’s because our 60lb Labrador stretches herself horizontally across the middle of the bed, leaving hardly any room for me or Mr Maximalista.

This probably explains how I wake up still tired, each morning, with a crick in my neck and a sore bloody back.

Gentle reader, we don’t start out our evenings in this status quo. Rest assured, Sadie starts out by cutely snuggling up with us, a tiny curled-up fur ball.

But at some time in the early hours of each morning, we are awoken by heavy snoring — SADIE’S — and discover that we are both inexplicably hanging off either edge of the bed, with Sadie spread-eagled across the centre of it; Mr Maximalista and I invariably with teeth a-chatter, shivering our arses off because Sadie won’t share the duvet.

How rude.

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Speaking of the duvet, it seems rather senseless to point out the obvious to you, which is that I, an English Maximalista fancy pants, naturally and unsurprisingly prefers to sleep on high-thread count, quality linens. Preferably made with unicorn hair woven by leprechauns, although European cotton will suffice.

Naturally, this means that my DOG is hogging my down-filled bedding, like she is to the manor born. And whilst I personally derive exquisite pleasure in slumbering in luxury bedding, Sadie is entirely clueless to her privilege.

Why don’t you buy her a dog bed, I hear you ask, as though I were a simpleton. Well, she did have a dog bed. Which she rejected. Probably because it was of inferior quality.

That actual dog bed simply became an unused obstacle on the floor — a big bloody ugly obstacle, to be honest — which was a trip hazard whenever I got up in the middle of the night to tinkle. It since got donated to the local animal shelter. Good riddance.

I guess the moral of the story is this: if one sleeps with dogs, one gets pushed out of bed.

In the meantime, enjoy the pictures of Sadie, obliviously lounging on my Yves Delorme and Frette. You can’t hear her, but I do assure you, she is snoring.

Lots of love,

M xo

Merchandise Credits:

Sadie’s bed: American Family Furniture
Wallpaper: Laura Ashley
Velvet curtains & fur pillow: Restoration Hardware, the velvet cushions are from Pottery Barn
Sadie’s bedspread & pillowcases: Frette
Sadie’s sheets: Frette and/or Yves Delorme, depending on what’s in the wash that week