“Heaven is better than church,” she said.

My wife’s birthday is tomorrow. She’ll turn a ripe 24. Given that birthdays are special days, and special days inspire special plans, and special plans upset established schedules, Crystal asked me the following question yesterday afternoon:

“So are we going to church Saturday or Sunday, since it’s my birthday?” (Our church has services on both days).

Wanting to sound decisive and manly, I said “Saturday.” And then, feeling especially pious, I added, “What better place to be on your birthday?”

“Heaven,” she said.

“Touché,” said I.