On the benefits of regular coffee drinking

In the mornings, I drink coffee. I get up, stumble to the kitchen, put the water to boil, go and wash myself...
Today I found I ran out of coffee. Not a single grain. I made me a cup of tea and thought I'd be fine.
Nope.
(1) I'm addicted to coffee. Self-obvious point.
(2) Coffee makes the world work correctly.

So, things went wrong today. Not totally wrong in the sense of me being late, failing to do this and that. Wrong, like, askew.
For the exchange thing, I had to sit a test in English. Level B1, the European Union has tables even for knowledge. It's something like intermediate. I arrived to the right building, managed to find the right room... and my idea of test being papers handed out and people scribbling something was turned upside down. It was some multiple-choice thing, test comprehension and listening comprehension, done on computers.
I signed the papers, went to designated place and started doing the thing. The two tasks in reading comprehension were so badly written that I had an itch to take out a red pen... well, were it on paper, I would correct the faults. There were no mistakes as such but it was very clumsily written.
Listening comprehension made me laugh. It was slooooow, e-nun-ci-a-ted and one of the talks was about Yukio Mishima which made me laugh even more. Nothing against that guy, he did some decent writing, but he was just top level crazy. Bonus for cray-zee, when wanting to link from wikipedia, I found out that the whole listening comprehension thingz was this very article read aloud. They not only could... they should tried better. Accidents like this really do undermine my trust in humankind.
I got off the bus to the general area at 1043 and I was leaving the test room at 1108. The test was for 60 minutes.
I walked down to the next stop. Three black guys wanted to sell me trinkets. History has turned upside down, no more the white men exchange trinkets for gold, rubies and lion hides, now black men try to exchange trinkets for whatever white men may have. I gave them The Eye and walked by.
In Florence, they have a street named after Cesare Lombroso, I crossed it today. It was the guy who invented the theory that from the shape of head, one can predict whether one is a criminal and what sort of. Not crazy, straight away creepy.
I wanted to mail a package. I always thought it was a simple thing - I haz a box. I goez post office. I fill in a form. Post person sticks it on box. I pay postage. I go. Nope, maybe somewhere but not in Italy. I had a box and postal lady gave me paper to fill in. I didn't expect that they would want my phone number which I don't remember but Ive written it in my diary which I obviously didn't have with me because I didn't know I would need it. Well, I managed to explain to the postal lady that if she has a celly, I can give her a squill and we'll find out. Then, my passport was needed, to make a copy and add it to the postal files. Then, postal lady asks for codice fiscale, sorta identification number. I haz even that one, on a pretty green card with the coat of arms of the Republic of Italy and a barcode and such and it permanently rests on my table. The number can be found somewhere online so the postal lady did that. Then I needed to fill some form for the customs. Customs! Within the EU, where there should be none. The whole process took some laughing and more time than an English test of level B1.
I still had some time left before my French class so I decided that I'll go downtown, drop at the department store and see whether they have Escale a Pondichéry, the hot new thingie from Dior. They did not so I decided to go to via Tornabuoni to Dior's and try there. On the way, I stopped at Gucci to get a sniff of Flora, too.
The lady at Dior, upon my question, explained that Dior as such and Dior perfumes are two entirely different companies and that at the Dior boutique, they only have the boutique scents.
I had enough and after all, there was that French class.
I arrived a bit early, I dug out all the pieces of paper and a notepad to jot down my impressions and people looked weird at me. Like, what am I doing. trying things and reviewig them, I said. For some magazine or something? Do I make perfumes? Internet? And do I get paid for it? I tried explaining that it's a hobby. People didn't get it.
I dropped at the grocery to get coffee and onions, thinking that when I have the pot of quail broth in the fridge, I could make risotto (and be sick). At home, I found out that I didn't have any rice.

Now, I'm catching up with caffeine intake and I'm not risking anything again.