Today is Good Friday, the day when all good Catholics remember the death of Our Lord and fast and pray and when all bad Catholics remember that there is no school (Praise God!) and go to the mall.

I clearly fall into the latter camp. But I'm okay with this, because in any case, I am only Catholic by association. I am, however, aiding and abetting my baptized-Catholic son by opting to join forces with the semi-Buddhists next door and take him to IK3A. Yes, nothing suggests shopping like someone being tortured to death. Just doing my part for religious anarchy.

AJ has been asking to visit IK3A for months, and since his birthday last week has renewed his requests in earnest. This is because he was getting close to the height limit for Småland (aka "free babysitting") last time we were there and he is afraid that his time is running out. AJ loves Småland. So does The Girl Next Door. And so a group outing was born and we'll be spending the day on a holy pilgrimage to the land of cheap furniture and Swedish food.

Unless, of course, we are smitten by God. Just how would God strike you down in the middle of IK3A? A bolt of lightning wouldn't quite do. Perhaps we'd be crushed to death in a pile of boxes full of particle board? Beheaded by the tragic malfunction of the chair testing machine? Choke to death on a Swedish meatball? (On meatless Good Friday! Oh, the irony!)

If I don't return to write another entry, you know I will have met a demise appropriate to my heathenosity. I leave all my unwritten prose to my enemies. May it torment them forever.

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