If you asked me, I wouldn’t say I live in the country. I’ve lived on a farm and an island. The luxuries I have now, like home delivery of mail, and a shiny Dunkin’ Donuts in the center of town, seem positively urban to me. However, I’ve had friends visit who have subsequently implied that I live in the middle of nowhere. Unfair, I say. Your town has two measly traffic lights, they point out. Not true, we have three. You missed the one they put in when we got that new-fangled CVS downtown. Then my houseguests stop arguing because they’re laughing too hard at the fact that I seem to sincerely believe my town has a downtown.

Okay, I’ll admit it: I live in a rural area. There are certain aspects about country life that maybe you city folk don’t understand. Here are a few:

1. Takeout, not delivery. Oh, how I envy you people who can call up a pizza place and actually have a pie delivered. If we want pizza, we have to get in the car and drive somewhere to pick up a pizza. There is no Dominos or any other pizza chain to deliver in 30 minutes or less. On the bright side, we save a ton of money, because we’re often not ambitious enough to drive for our food.

2. Wifi, not satellite. Nature’s nice and all, but because of the stupid trees surrounding us, we can’t get satellite television. Again, we save a ton of money, because with no cable or satellite bills, we watch television online. The downside: we have to stay off Facebook on Sunday nights to avoid Walking Dead and Downton Abbey spoilers, because the episodes aren’t available online until the next day. And I would sincerely appreciate it, Peter Dudar and Jeff Strand, if you would wait to post your Survivor comments until 24 hours after it airs.

3. Taco who? My town has no fast food, save the one Dunkin’ Donuts I mentioned previously. If we want McDonalds, Burger King, or Kentucky Fried Chicken, we have to drive thirty minutes. Remember when I complained about having to drive to get pizza? The pizza place is only twenty minutes away, and we can’t even muster up the energy to go there. We eat fast food exactly never.

4. Wildlife 101. When Jason first met me, he could not identify a woodchuck on sight, nor did he know the difference between a fox and a coyote. Now he can identify animals based on their poop, which we find frequently in the back yard. We’ve seen deer, foxes, bobcats, skunks, possum, coyotes, coyotes eating possums, red-tailed hawks, bats, owls, and more. The upside: I have never, ever, seen a cockroach outside of a zoo.

5. What public transportation? I had a roommate in college from the Bronx. She didn’t have her driver’s license because she’d never needed it. Conversely, we were taking drivers’ ed at 15 in my hometown. You couldn’t not have a license. The closest bus station was a 20-minute drive away. Now that I’ve moved one town over, it’s 30 minutes away. So I could drive 30 minutes and take a 30-minute bus ride to work, or I could drive the 40 minutes it takes to get to my job.

Believe me, I’m not complaining. I lived on an island where home delivery of mail or newspapers simply didn’t exist, the gas station was limited to alternating hours on alternating days (and believe me, if you couldn’t make it there between 9 AM – 12 PM on Saturdays, you were walking the rest of the weekend), and where Chinese food was a fancy mainland dish we could only dream of. So I’ll take the half-hour drive to Taco Bell. I may not go there often, but at least I can if I want to. And in my world, that’s as close to city living as I care to get.

Now please excuse me—I have to go feed a taco to the bobcat in the back yard.    

I get that life is hard. Sometimes, it out-and-out stinks. Perhaps the snow in New England has been getting you down, or a mounting pile of bills has you thinking of desperate options. More and more, I’m hearing about people going for one solution that many of you might be tempted to try. Are you, gentle reader, thinking about selling your soul to the Devil? Here are some things you need to consider before signing in blood on the dotted line:

Are you aiming high enough?

Your soul should fetch a goodly amount from the Devil. After all, people are selling their souls on eBay for upwards of $475.00 (I’m not making that up). Make sure you ask for all of it—fame, fortune, love, happiness, and maybe a lifetime supply of DoubleStuf Oreos. Go for broke. You can always give up the Oreos during negotiations.

How much do you really know about Satan?

Sure, you probably know the Devil went down to Georgia that one time. Or that a friend of the Devil is a friend of yours. But if the entirety of your information on the Prince of Lies resides in old Charlie Daniels and Grateful Dead tunes, you might want to bone up on your Beelzebub knowledge before entering a contract with him. Find a nice, chatty Catholic priest, perhaps. Or read a book. Maybe the Good Book.

Do you have a good lawyer?

If we’ve learned anything from Faust or “The Devil and Daniel Webster,” it’s that the Prince of Darkness is a tricky little bugger. Before you sign a contract with him, make sure you have a competent attorney review all the paperwork. Don't chintz out on this important step. Might as well go for the best money can buy—after all, you’ll surely be able to afford it once the deal is done and Satan bestows a ton of money on you. (You ARE asking for money, right?)

What can you expect, weather-wise?

Perhaps the most tempting aspect of eternal damnation in Hell is the heat. The glorious, glorious heat. (I live in New England. The thermometer peaked at -2 degrees today. Brimstone sounds darn cozy right about now.) But a quick review of Dante’s Inferno might have you thinking twice about taking up residence in Hell. For instance, did you know that there’s no guarantee you’ll wind up somewhere warm? Dante describes the third circle of Hell, where all the gluttons hang out, as being full of vile slush produced by never-ending icy rain. Icy rain. Brr. And the last circle of Hell? You know, where the worst people go (like maybe those of you that sell your souls for personal gain)? They’re all encased in a frozen lake. Some of ’em are even being chewed on by the Devil himself, but just enough to make them bleed, not enough to warm them up with satanic saliva. Doesn’t sound warm and brimstony at all, does it?

Are you sure eternal damnation is the right choice for you?

If you’re still hell-bent (har har) on selling your soul to the Devil, make sure you’re making the right choice for you. Are you good at handling brutal torture, or does that sound like something you might not enjoy for all eternity? Is fame and fortune really worth being gnawed on by Satan while being encased in an icy lake? Wouldn’t it just be easier to play the lottery or buy your own DoubleStuf Oreos on occasion? And don’t delude yourself—once that contract’s signed, it’s signed. Don’t count on outsmarting Lucifer—if you can’t even outsmart your four-year-old nephew at Candyland, you’re not going to do well against the Prince of Lies himself.

Selling your soul: there are probably better options out there.

I am not of a romantic ilk. I was raised by a teacher and a farmer—both practical, sensible people. I do not believe in that ‘happily ever after’ or ‘soul mates’ garbage. If you want to make me swoon, do manual labor for me or buy me a book.

As a result, I tend to forget about things like Valentine’s Day. I mean, I’m aware that my dad always comes through mid-February with chocolates, and Jason will often take me out to dinner around that time, but it doesn’t always register as to why. For me, there are a million other things we could be celebrating besides a stupid Hallmark holiday. Here are twenty things we should be celebrating this month:

1. Shamrock shakes are back at McDonalds!
2. February is National Grapefruit Month. Notable for its contribution to an ill-thought-out diet plan, as well as an effective way to punish bad kids (by either making them eat one or throwing one at them), this fine fruit deserves its own month.
3. Only 77 days until the second Avengers movie comes out.
4. Soylent Green is still made out of people! And Saturday Night Live is now 40 years old. Thank you, Lorne Michaels.
5. February 16 is Do a Grouch a Favor Day. I expect many, many favors.
6. While this February has been positively miserable, it still remains the shortest month of the year.
7. Betty White just celebrated her 93rd birthday on January 17.
8. Stephen King’s second book in the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, Finders Keepers, is due out on June 2—only 109 days from now. Sounds like a great excuse to have a shamrock shake.
9. The five-day forecast for New England shows two whole days without snow. It’s practically spring!
10. The first Friday the 13th of the year (this year, Feb. 13) is Blame Someone Else Day. I blame my parents for my decidedly non-romantic opinion of Valentine’s Day.
11. Serial killer David Berkowitz believes he should be in prison for the rest of his life, and doesn’t bother attending his parole hearings. Let’s all have a shamrock shake to celebrate!
12. Dunkin’ Donuts now carries chocolate-filled croissants.
13. It has been 15 years since Survivor first introduced us to Richard Hatch. And the 30th season starts February 25.
14. Weight Watchers is currently running a fabulous deal: If you join and lose at least ten pounds in your first two months, you’ll be refunded two months’ worth of subscription fees. Something to consider, seeing as I’ve already consumed three shamrock shakes, a chocolate croissant, and maybe a bite of Soylent Green over the course of this list.
15. February 15 is astronomer and physicist Galileo Galilei’s birthday. Without him, we’d all still be thinking that Earth was the center of the solar system.
16. Philly cheesesteaks exist.
17. The crocuses will start blooming in March. They might be blooming through snow, but they’re coming.
18. Eggs are good for us again! Or not. Who cares? It’s February, I’m cold, and I’m going to eat an egg if I want one. Specifically, I’m going to eat it raw in brownie batter.
19. According to this website, February 17 is Champion Crab Races Day. This led to my discovery that there is a National Crab Racing Association. Imagine: someone was passionate enough about professional hermit crab racing that they created a whole organization to celebrate it. I’m celebrating, too. With another shamrock shake.
20. The zombie apocalypse hasn’t happened. Yet.

There you have it. Twenty things to celebrate this weekend, and not one of them is mushy (though I’ll admit, I get a little emotional when I think about shamrock shakes). Happy Do a Grouch a Favor Day, everyone!

We all have our favorite authors. Some of them are consistent pinch hitters, delivering a satisfying read with each new book, and some of them are known to throw the occasional clunker between fastballs. Our relationships with these authors, much like our relationships in life, can often change. Sometimes they grow. Sometimes they flame out like an eighties child star. How do you know when it’s time to break it off with your favorite writer?

1. Have you been in denial regarding your true feelings about the author?

I love Larry McMurtry. Lovelovelove him. But there are times, I’ll admit, where I’ll read something of his and think “What just happened there? I’m not entirely sure that was worth the effort.” Have my feelings changed? In this case, no. I still love him enough to forgive him the occasional miss. But there are others with whom I am less forgiving . . .

2. Do the benefits of the relationship outweigh the hardships?

When you buy the latest Patterson novel, do you feel like it was worth the $25 in hardcover, or do you feel slightly . . . used? Like you'd put out (the money, of course) and all in all, you could've had a V-8? If you don’t feel like you’re getting your money’s worth (and honestly, this is subjective: nobody else can tell you if you enjoyed a book or not), it might be time to call it quits.

3. Is the issue with you? And are you willing to change?

You know what genres and writing styles you enjoy, and what ones just don’t work for you. That’s okay. Own your issues and don’t apologize for them (I, for one, have never been attracted to fantasy). I’ll always remember the good times Ann Rule and I had. But I outgrew my passion for true crime books and started reading more non-murderous nonfiction. She did not follow me. It’s okay. Sometimes authors and readers will grow apart.

4. Are you only in the relationship because you don’t want to hurt the author’s feelings?

Trust me: James Patterson will get over it.

5. Are you only in the relationship because you’re afraid of being without a book?

Maybe John Irving hasn’t been doing it for you lately. Maybe he hasn’t in a long time. Sure, you can try and revisit the good times you had with Garp and Owen Meany, but after the third or fourth reading, you start to feel a little . . . bored. Nothing's changed. Garp hasn't changed. Now think of all the other new, exciting books you’re missing out on because you feel obligated to slog through Last Night in Twisted River. You’re not having fun. Sometimes you actively hate the book. Time to put it to the side and find something new.

6. Be willing to accept that you’re just not that in to your favorite author anymore.

Nobody knows why human beings are so darn fickle. But we are. There was a time when I couldn’t get enough Jodi Picoult. I loved her, and she could do no wrong. I’m not so sure she was that in to me, though—I suspect if she truly did care about me, she wouldn’t have written so many darn depressing books. She didn’t make me laugh. She made me feel bad about things that weren't really my fault. Spending quality time with her novels made me sad, and I had to give her up.

All of these are telltale signs that it might be time to find someone new. We can all forgive the occasional bad book, but if the bad times outweigh the good, it just might be time to move on.