That Was Weird

I had a lovely Christmas Day.

It was weird.

Usually, the boys wake us around seven.  We have never had enough sleep the night before.  For the first time, it was gone eight (that was particularly weird for me – I get up around six every day).

Usually, I insist that discarded wrapping paper goes straight into bags for recycling.  This year, I let it pile up on the floor and the dogs played in it.  The mess was soon cleared up afterwards.

Usually, it takes us about two hours to unwrap all the presents.  We take turns, decipher the clues we have written for each other, and thank the giver.  That didn’t change.  We once spent Christmas with a family who dived in to the presents in a frenzy, opening everything at once.  It took eight people fifteen minutes, tops.  It might be fun but there was no laughter at bad guesses and daft clues, no gratitude from the receiver for the effort made by the giver.  We like to savour our gift-gifting.

Usually, the Hub has to go back to bed for a couple of hours; yesterday, he didn’t, though he did doze on the couch while I made dinner.  That’s normal.

Usually, we don’t walk the dogs on Christmas Day, the only day of the year they don’t get a walk.  Yesterday, because it has rained so much in the last two weeks, we took them out while it wasn’t.  It was the Hub, the Nephew and me.  Lovely.  

It’s not so lovely trying to find dog poo in the dark, but I’ll gloss over that bit.

Usually, we have a starter.  Yesterday, I only remembered it as I was about to dish up, so we didn’t.  No one cared.

Usually, I am a terrible stress head about making Christmas Dinner.  Last year I cried because the roast potatoes were too big.  This year, not only were the roasties perfect, but I didn’t stress at all, timing everything just right.  The only wee bit of stress was when the boys came to help and I had to leave the kitchen while they squabbled about stupid things.  It was liking watching an all-male version of my marriage.

Usually, I finish my dinner, Christmas or otherwise.  Yesterday, I was the only one who didn’t, and who didn’t have seconds.  That’s ten pounds I’ll never put on.

Usually, we pull our crackers after dinner.  Yesterday, because of lack of space, we pulled them first and ate with paper hats on our heads,  Most jolly!

Usually, we watch a film after dinner.  Yesterday, for the first time in years, we didn’t.  We watched Doctor Who – of course – and other Christmas TV specials. Usually, we’re too stuffed to laugh, but The Royle Family took care of that.

Usually, I fall into bed on Christmas night around eleven, as the one and sometimes two glasses of wine kick in.  This year I drank Buck’s Fizz.  A whole bottle, without it going to my head.  Rather impressed with my hard head, I have just looked it up and it is one part alcohol to two parts orange juice…I still have a soft head.

All in all, a lovely day.  I love the routine of Christmas; don’t you?

 

Joke 643

Drunk Zebra Crossing near British Museum (Photo credit: Paul Nicholson)

I’ve been reading some statistics on the most common way people walk when drunk.  

It’s staggering.

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Thanks to my friend Shanaz for this one.