I didn�t get to go for another run this morning, which is too bad, since I woke up feeling my muscles just the right amount. I felt strong and like I worked hard, but not so hard that I wasn�t up for more. But instead of running, I managed to convince myself and AJ that what we really wanted to do was drive to IKEA.

I think my mental blocks of actual IKEA experiences must be akin to the kind of psychic break that makes women forget the pain of childbirth enough to willingly have another child. I always forget how totally draining it is to shop there. I can never find what I�m looking for and when I do, it is inevitably out of stock. It�s all very aggravating. AJ, however, loves it. The store is, after all, set up with preschoolers in mind. They can touch and jump on anything and there are lots of places to play. And today, finally potty trained (and therefore eligible), AJ was all excited to check out Smaland, the drop-off play area for kids. This place was a kid wonderland. I signed AJ in and barely got a wave goodbye as he tore off to climb onto the roof of a castle with a pack of other three- and four-year-olds similarly abandoned. I felt a little guilty for leaving him there and more than a little jealous at not being able to play with him. But as a result of his enthusiasm for this particular form of entertainment, I actually came home with some furniture, although, as usual, they were out of most of the things I went for. But I now have a soft and fuzzy rug to insulate my feet from the ice-cold basement floor of my office and AJ has a new bookshelf, which means we can finally get the rest of his books out of the storage space. I also managed to pick out a bookshelf and chair for my office, which should be back in stock in a month, and found several acceptable kitchen tables for my husband to look at, should I ever be able to con him into a return trip. He is not similarly afflicted with the selective memory loss about trips to IKEA.

Time to work. Must. Finish. Conference. Paper.

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