You know you've acclimated to life in Italy when...

• you follow Roberta's instructions to get the stay permit for the kids and her descriptions are not general, but entirely literal.  She says, "Go to the building I brought you to before, go in the building, then into the door on your right where there's a room.  Go into that room, and on the left you'll see a hole in the wall where you put your receipt.  Put your receipt through the hole, and then they'll bring you the stay permits."  You go step by step, pushing and crowding on a Thursday afternoon (because of course they're open for stay permit pickups on only Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3-5pm) with four kids.  When you walk into the room, you follow the herd of nuns toward the wall where there is a hole.  An actual hole cut into the white plaster wall.  Everyone is putting papers into this hole, so you push your own papers through the hole and hope that someone will actual pick them up on the other side.  The system works: you walk out an hour later with permits for all the kids.
• you're not surprised that you got three snow days in two weeks but didn't spy snow once within the center of Viterbo.  In fairness, I did see photos of snow from outside the city.
• Hannah's soccer coach tells you that Hannah -- age 7 -- still cannot play in soccer games because of the bureaucracy of stay permits, but she can play in one tournament next Sunday.
• you show up for your 9:30am haircut at 9:29am, and the salon is locked and dark, but you feel pretty sure that you got the right day and time.  After all, you just made the appointment the day before.  At 9:31am, the owner shows up with his dog with apologies, grace, charm.  And you tell him, "No problem.  It's good.  Va bene."
• at the hair salon the mini-massage of three minutes relaxes you completely -- in just three minutes.  You say to the woman who let you select which oil you wanted and who gave you the three minute massage, "Troppo rilassato," meaning that you are super relaxed now, but what you say translates to "Too relaxed," and she says, "Mai troppo rilassato, sempre tanto," which means never too relaxed, always very relaxed.  And you agree wholeheartedly.
• your hair cut, a simple bob, takes two hours instead of the usual three and a half (though the longer time was for cut and color), and you don't mind at all; in fact, while you were there, you forgot about whatever else you were going to do before the kids got out of school (maybe it was the three minute massage).
• you learn that a few of your Italian colleagues, your age and older, get their hair and nails done every single week, and you're not that surprised, but relieved that they don't pull off their well-styled hair and nails on their own every day.
• you walk into the iphone repair shop to get a new battery, and the guy there tells you that it will take him five minutes and cost thirty euro.  And you think, "This was so easy!" forgetting that really, this is your fourth attempt to get a new battery for your phone: first time you took the metro and then a tram into the environs of Rome to get to a shop an hour later where a man told you that he couldn't get a battery for your SE because that model is too old; second time you found an iphone store in the middle of Rome but you weren't sure you wanted to pay 70 euro for a new battery and you didn't want to wait an entire day; third time you went to this same Viterbo store, and there was a sign saying that they weren't doing repairs on Monday or Tuesday, but someone would be able to help you on Wednesday.  Fourth time is this Viterbo shop, repair guy there, battery miraculously replaced.  Life feels easy.