Riding the Wave, 41. Not Your Regular Christmas.

Today is Christmas Eve. Tonight is the big dinner that should have congregated different households in one, with indigestion promised for tomorrow. The day is sunny and cold. This night will be starry and Christmas-cold.

We aren't going to my in-laws. Technically, we could, because we would only be two households, and a maximum of six adults. But all the other considerations wouldn't come into play. There is no way we would eat in their dining room, spread out at the large table, with the windows open, and wearing masks except for eating. We'll eat in our own homes, in our cozy warm kitchens, and make video calls. 

Our freezer and fridge are filled. The exercise in buying food was partly for the holidays, and partly to stock up on items I normally buy from supermarkets where I can't wander now. Also, as a bulwark against a possible quarantine. I would hate to importune anyone by asking them to go shopping for me. As it is, once you start stockpiling, "just in case", it seems that you never have enough stockpiled. It's always, "just one more item in case I can't make it out of the house for two weeks." How many packages of pasta are too much? How many bottles of olive oil? Sometimes, I look at my pantry and think it looks like a small grocery store. Other times, I look and think there's not enough of A or B. And there's never, ever, enough cat food; not at the rate my fur balls eat. 

Most people work until midday today, except in retail. Those close earlier, though. Supermarkets, which have normal hours until nine in the evening, will probably close at seven or eight, so last minute items have to be thought of early. The baker today delivered double, because tomorrow is one of only three days bakers don't work. The other days are New Year's and Good Friday. (Why the latter, beats me.) 

Tonight, there'll be seafood, meat, and Christmas desserts I also stocked up on. We'll boo the King's address at nine o'clock, and probably sing carols around the table. Around midnight we'll probably consider going to bed, with distended stomachs starting to ache. It's a good thing I bought a fresh pineapple to help with digestion. At the worst, we'll miss family. At the best, we'll be glad of not having to argue over anything. Maybe, if the clouds hold off, and we remember, we can try to search for the Christmas star, which won't be as bright as last Monday, but we'll still be able to notice the two planets close together in the sky. 

All in all, not such a bad Christmas.

Life continues. Merry Christmas.