I bought a plane ticket to Paris.
Last year I said I'd do two things in 2012: I'd sign up for roller derby and I'd go to Paris in the spring. Roller derby was easier because it was cheaper, but I was considering postponing the trip. Darling Juliette ran up a $600 vet bill last week, will likely cost me a couple hundred more this week, and damn - derby gear is expensive! With airline tickets in the $1000+ range, I thought maybe it'd be best to put the trip off until the fall. Fall in Paris is nice too, right? But on a whim I scanned prices over the weekend and spotted a round trip airfare for around $750, which is pretty good when you consider that I live in a non-hub city in the middle of the U.S. and was looking to travel at a peak time.
But here's the best part: the airfare was only good for the three-week time span I'd been planning to travel. It's like it was meant for me. So I did some math, figured I should get the same amount back on my taxes this year as last, and went for it.
I'm going to Paris. For 10 days. Alone.
I'm beyond excited. I'm giddy. I can't wait to wander the markets and stroll the streets and be dazzled by the architecture. I plan to binge on brie and baguettes and wine. I want to sit in a sidewalk cafe and sip coffee while I read a book. I want struggle with the language (I don't speak a word of French) and get a little (but not too) lost. And I want to do it all on my own and on my terms, like the grown ass woman I am.
It's only the middle of January, but I can already tell I'm going to have a ball this year.