My main presents didn't get delivered in time, so I'm drinking tea out of a Christmas themed, too small mug (it's teapcup sized) with Robins on that came as a twin set with a coordinating Old Lady mini tray.
There was bugger all meat (and no reductions at all) left in the supermarket when he finally went, having waited in for the non existent deliveries (couldn't get a supermarket slot and really didn't trust them enough to risk ordering the meat from them anyhow), so instead of something 'special', we've got a bog standard chicken for dinner.
My other gifts include some bamboo seeds (um, OK, I'll need to get a pot as I don't trust that not to take over half the garden) and some jam (I don't eat jam, I eat lemon curd. He eats jam, though).
However, I had presents to open. He'd clearly had a fight with the wrapping paper and sellotape, but had emerged triumphant at the end by getting it all to stick together. And it's my birthday in three weeks, so I'm guaranteed bigger presents than usual then instead.
We have a Christmas Dinner with gluten free stuffing as I'd bought that six weeks ago when it was in stock and gluten free gravy as I bought that at the same time.
The only cooking I've done is peel some veg and he's done the rest.
The smoke alarm hasn't heralded the coming of the roasties and parsnips yet, but I've got my headphones on to block out the sound just in case.
The mugs may be small and twee, but we needed some more because the others have been chipped and he had noticed the shape I normally buy, that they're always white inside and that I tend to pick up ones with wildlife or birds on rather than geometric designs or [shudder] weird colours on the inside.
The naff tray is going to be hidden by the teapot as now he's seen how small they are, he's decided I'm going to need two cups of tea to get the same amount at any given time, so he's got the teapot out of the cupboard and washed it up. Which means the tea is more likely to taste of tea instead of milk.
We're warm, safe and although we aren't with his family, they're safe and well. His grandmother's dementia has progressed over the last two years so that she would probably find it distressing to have too many people around in any case. So she's safe and happy with her wonderful carers.
It's not an instafriendly Christmas, but we're here, we're well fed (dinner arrived as I was typing this - it was lovely - and NO smoke alarm!), we're well and it's calm and relaxed. So much so, he's beginning to snore on the other end of the sofa and the cat is sizing up his legs to go to sleep on them, hopefully without falling through them and doing DP a bit of a mischief in the process. And the second part of the Beatles' thing is on and I'm feeling the love for Ringo, who just turns up and does his job without complaint or ridiculousness. Exactly what you need from a drummer.
Which is great. This is a great Christmas.
We can't be the only people whose Christmas doesn't exactly match the promises of TV and movies, social media or peer pressure. But it's a happy Christmas nonetheless.
Who else is thinking 'Yes, this is enough. It's not 'perfect', things haven't necessarily gone to plan or are utterly magical, and that's OK because I'm happy'?