My coffee is bubbling and it speaks Spanish.

Why is it that somedays I just don’t know? I don’t know what I want, I can’t figure out how I feel: decisions are illusive concepts floating just above the reach of my mental capacity. For some reason I think Argentina exaggerates this. I feel things more strongly, I take them more seriously – I am hit in the face by the most random, abstract little moments of what should be considered normalcy and then I’m confused.

And let’s not even talk about boys. That’s what I’m doing up at 4am: worrying about the “what-if’s” of the improbable. Dating in Argentina is like waking up one morning and discovering that when you pour your normal cup of morning coffee it starts bubbling and speaking Spanish. And you think, “WTF! I am SO not awake enough for this nonsense. I’m going back to bed. Wake me up when the coffee is drinkable.”

Ok, so I’m awake. I guess I’m just not prepared. You’d think that after being single for a couple years I’d be competent enough to go on a few dates and not be left laying awake all night chewing them through my tired little mind. No! That’s apparently not how it works. Apparently I’m still 16 inside when it comes to men. Except now I’ve got a healthy dose of cynicism to add to the mix. That’s probably why the coffee is bubbling. Why is it speaking Spanish? Obvio: that’s the Argentine factor.

I’m going to go kick something and try to go back to sleep now.