I Love BA! The tango, the nightlife, food, the constipation after the food....(Just kidding). But you know what I love the most?
It's magic!!!! It will LITERALLY knock your socks off!
Every night I go to bed with a full set of PJs and a pair of socks because there is no central heat, just space heaters for the 40-50 degree lows. (Not to worry, I'm quite comfortable with the heater and down comforter so far). And every morning, like magic, I wake up to find my socks in a neat pile somewhere beside the bed. How can that be?? I don't remember waking up to carefully place them strategically next to me on the floor. Like, when I sleep in Austin, my socks are either in Dax's face, Milo's mouth or somewhere in the mess of sheets.
This morning it was extra magic. I was super cold last night after walking around barefoot (which felt good at the time as the cold floor soothed my aching bones) so decided to try sleeping without my socks. About 20 mins in, I was tossing and turning, too cold to sleep with my popsicle toes. And there was just no chance M would let me put my cold feet under her butt the way Dax lets me (was there?). So I decided, it was time for some serious sockage...drastic times called for drastic measures: out come to Spongebob socks. They even have little eyeballs attached!
This morning, I woke up nice and toasty, and didn't want to get out of bed except today is the day that Boo Pulkownik is coming in!! Yet, something was strangely awry.... or was it?? I noticed just then that my comfortable, thawed toes were not covered anymore by the awesome power of the Spongebob sock. Where had the gone??? I looked in the first place I could think of, next to me on the floor. No where to be found...under the sheets, maybe? Nope.
Finally, I got out of bed, dejected and in denial that my favorite socks might be lost forever. Like I said, I was getting out of bed, and realized nothing was awry after all! There they were, my comfortable little pals, right on top of me! I told you Buenos Aires is magic!
I know it's hard to believe... it was hard for me to believe too. Or is it just easier to think that Buenos Aires is magic vs. that I am actually THAT anal compulsive that I place socks into neat piles around me in my own sleep?
