A very ordinary Christmas during very unusual times

Christmas dinner was a surprisingly nice experience. Who would’ve thought? I certainly wasn’t expecting a good time with everything that’s happening. 12 people attended, same inner circle, everyone sent their vaccination cards to the hostess and did a rapid-test the same day. Can’t think of a safer way to get-together and celebrate Christmas in the middle of the pandemic.

As usual, we were told to get there early and with a big appetite, ready to eat.
As usual, I arrived fashionably late (around 25 minutes after, with three different desserts and the whole coffee set-up).
As usual, we didn’t start eating until everyone got there (last three people got there two hours late, ‘cause why not, a mix-up with the times).

Might as well start drinking, without any food in our stomachs. 

Open the select small batch bourbon, 
Open the bottles of champagne,
Open the pre-made cocktails.

Hungry? You’re screwed! 
Have some more pretzels and grapes. Here’s another mimosa. We’re not starting till every seat at the table gets filled. “Would you like it if we started dinner without you?” Hell to the yes, especially after waiting for an hour and still one more to go (thank you shared location + googlemaps).

Nothing happened, just a minor dialogue scene that ended with me pouring another glass of bourbon, grabbing a handful of pretzels and leaving the kitchen with the family dog: “Come here, girl. We’re going to the couch”. And I gave her the ‘I have a snack in my hand’ signal. It was a pretzel, which she left on the floor after licking it, and two seconds later one of the small kids picked it up and ate it. 

Everything happened so fast, no witnesses, and the dog doesn’t know how to talk; a victimless crime.

I was happy, he was happy, the dog was happy. Nothing to see here.

After three bourbons and two (loaded) mimosas, I was in a better mood. The people that were late finally walked through the door, screaming “we’re sorry, we’re sorry” and carrying a 24-case of beer with a batch of homemade cookies. Incredibly enough, the first thing that went through my mind was “Oh, great, more sugar.” 

— Watcha doing here all alone?

“I’m not alone. I’m here with Ridley (the dog) and my drink. No better company.

— Drunk already? It’s not even evening.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. I’m drinking because you’re late.”

Immediately after, we heard the loud voice of mama hostess. 

“Everyone! Food is on the table. Let’s eat!.”

— Merry Christmas, Rob.

“Merry Christmas, bro.”


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