I lay on a bench in the sun today, in peace, with my eyes closed. I met with people from uni for coffee, and we sat in the gazebo on Maastricht’s main square, snickering, mocking tourists, listening to seagulls laugh above us. And I signed up for a weekend trip to Paris in April.

Let me just repeat this: WEEKEND. TRIP. TO PARIS. Life is good.

Just like yesterday, I woke up in kind of a blah mood. I knew I was going to probably take care of the Paris thing but I spent most of the morning online, fidgeting with the new HBN theme, waiting for Sandra and Josie to confirm they’d come to Paris with me. I really like it now, by the way, this new theme, even though I didn’t make it myself and only adjusted things here and there. (Do you?) Around 11, I walked down to my faculty for the sign-up at the student association’s offices. I got their way early. Like, an hour early. I was so afraid I wouldn’t get one of the fifty open spots because that’s what happened last year with Paris and Brussels. Half an hour before sign-up, no one else was there yet, though. So I left again, and relaxed on a nice wooden bench in the sun for a bit. I think today was the first day that the sun was warm again and not just bright. This was in an inner courtyard at the Arts and Social Sciences faculty where it’s never really busy but someone – usually someone with especially animated hair and funny clothes – is always walking by, muttering to themselves or whistling a jolly little tune which- that is pure peace to me.

So Sandra, Josie and I signed up for the trip, along with a collection of first-year students. It’ll be a weekend in April; the bus there and back, the night at some shabby shack, admission fees for the Musée d’Orsay, the metro tickets, a schmaltzy boat tour on the Seine at night – all for the AMAZING price of only 68 euros ($93). I mean, that’s the type of deal you would have to take even if you hated Paris. (Which is of course a hypothetical scenario because people, by law, cannot hate Paris. Ever.) In any case, I’m psyched that this is going to happen.

Also, I should perhaps consider a career in infomercial sales. That last paragraph definitely had an “And I’ll throw in two steak knives!” sentiment about it. But COME ON. SIXTY-EIGHT EUROS. IMPOSSIBLE.