There are some things that are just so wonderfully weird and ridiculous about living in a city like Florence, it takes a whole list just to appreciate it.
You know you live in Florence when…
Seeing a homeless guy pooping in the middle of Stazione Santa Maria Novella on the front page of La Nazione doesn’t even surprise you anymore.
You drink wine out of empty Nutella jars because…well, it’s Italy.
You can name every pizza joint within a 5 mile radius of your house.
You like your bistecca fiorentina cooked like the Florentines do…aka rare as shit.
When walking on the sidewalks, you never ever look up–there might be a little surprise (dog poop) waiting in front of you.
Walking through Piazza Duomo for you feels like a scene from the Walking Dead only you’re fighting off tourists.
You can’t stand the months of July and August in the city, and escape to the beach along with the locals if you can.
There are at least 3 pieces of Ikea furniture or decorations in your rented apartment.
You remember when Lochness was a packed bar on Via dei Benci, and the locals didn’t give a shit about noise laws or rules.
You tell people you live in Florence and they sigh with jealousy. And this makes you very warm and fuzzy on the inside, cause you know your city’s the shit.
Your daily commute to work includes passing by some of the world’s most famous artwork and architecture.
You’ve drank wine on the steps of Santo Spirito.
You’ve raged all night at Notte Bianca.
The Blob.
You’ve gotten hungover breakfast at The Diner and then spent all day in your pajamas watching reruns of Sex and the City.
You’ve had at least 3 bicycles stolen at some point during your time here.
Whenever anyone complains about the bread having no salt in Florence, you just smile and nod because…duh, schiacciata.
At first you hated it, but now you’d probably kidnap a baby just to get your hands on a juicy lampredotto panino with salsa verde and salsa piccante. Especially when you’re hungover.
The guy at your local cafe who constantly talks about his digestive system doesn’t even faze you anymore. Actually now, you join in on the conversation because it’s fascinating hearing complete strangers eagerly talk about weird bodily functions.
Nowhere in the world will ever compare to living in one of the world’s most beautiful cities. Florence, I love you. You’re the tits.
The Florence Diaries 
pretty much can attest to them all, especially wine in nutella jars and my bistecca being cooked rare as shit, brava Gina! I would also add the sort of raw jealousy that comes with telling a local you have a permit B for your car (read and weep folks!)