I unwrapped the first little gift, and it was a coaster with a little spider being busy with making special craftwork for me.

Seriously - first, I needed this exact thing to replace a piece of paper I put my beverage on while drawing sketches, to protect my newly arranged working table. I literally thought "Go buy some coaster to prevent the dominance of mess in your room. Mug stains is the first step to anarchy", days ago. And trust me, this is one of those to-do points which end up being postponed forever.

Second, I'll remember your anonymous self every time I take a sip. Third, I'd never buy such a piece of cuteness for myself, it's so fucking special, and plain adorable.

The second gift... Follow the train of thoughts went through my mind while exploring it.

It's a book. Okay?... I'd totally present myself a book as a fail-proof gift. English isn't my native language though, so a joy of casual reading may turn into suffer. Sending a book to your international Santa is a gambling.

It's by Nabokov I mentioned as the Master, the most skilled and beloved word-artist of mine. Yay! This is awesome, considering that he is bilingual, and I am yet to know his writing in English. They Santa is thoughtful.

This book is mint. The cover is faded, like it was exposed on a store showcase for years, without anyone caring to buy it. Now I don't mind used books, but it's kind of off to get from a stranger...

It's not used - it's old. It's coeval of my parents, no offense to them but in book years it counts to be old. I have to admit my hands went little shaky the moment I realized it's a freaking first edition of this publishing, 1969. And I may or may not put it aside, loaded gun style, to rush to the bathroom to wash my filthy XXI century hands before starting to read it. Amazing! You hit home, Santa. Simply perfect.

Thank you, mysterious UK Santa, for being awesome! For being this thoughtful, and making me happy these days. And now excuse me for I have to take a bath with my tea-bag salt I've also got from you).