So I took my trusty and beloved “No Jet Lag” tablets. I swear by these. I took them last year for the first time and they rocked my world.

Translation: no jet lag.

However, I think a lot of jet lag has to do with what flight you’re on. I personally much prefer as late of flight as possible, like last year — we left around midnight. Naturally, you’re already tired and winding down. At 6p.m.? Not so much.

It’s 9p.m. and guys {you know you thought I was going to bust out with the “dudes” again}, I can’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep during yoga. I fell asleep eating. Hell, I’m probably going to fall asleep typing.

I can’t do it. I’ve got to go to bed. I feel like I keep forcing myself — to try to make it through yoga. To try to shower. To try to eat.

To hell with all of that. I’ve made it to 9p.m., I’m so disoriented and feel like I have that weirdish unbalancedness about me that jet lag is responsible for.

It’s time. I’ve just got to go to bed.

I had high hopes. Very high hopes of telling you about the plane, about my Champagne indulging. About my free ride right to my doorstep here at 93 Boulevard Raspail. Of already finding a super cute dress and scarf {shopping was bound to commence immediately}. Of the challenges of finding a small market open on Sundays for food necessities. Of the rocking Organic Farmers Market I went to in the morning.

Looks like all those will just have to wait.

In the meantime, let me tell you … Paris is beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking. Never ceases to take my breath away. To render me completely speechless.

It was a perfect 72 degrees and sunny today. If anything, I’m feeling a little cold right now. Off to go climb under some warm covers.

Goodnight.