There are certain things, objects, people even, in our world that we could easily point to and claim, “That’s the work of the devil.” You know, if we were even the type to classify things as good and bad, delineating a heaven from a hell, and all that. I kind of hope that “heaven” becomes whatever we think it will be while we’re alive. So if we think it’s the kind of place that lets us see exactly what happened to all those people and things we lost, and a place where we can overindulge without any consequences, where all our needs are met, where we feel constantly like we’re falling in love, while also knowing it won’t ever end, that you can have all the people in your life you want at all times. That there’s miss, but only enough to make you love even more. Every hour there’s a new chick flick better than the next. If we think it’s all decadence, it will be. And if we think it’s the place from where we originally came before we were born, a place we don’t remember, a place where we return, and go back to not existing at all, then that’s what we get.

Bacon ice cream, some might argue, is the work of the devil (Oh, but it’s so damn good over waffles!). The girl at camp who replaces your hair conditioner with Nair (can you even imagine?), the mother who puts her cigarette out on her daughter’s plate, letting her know she’s eaten quite enough, and damn it to hell, online banking. I have yet to find anything as frustrating.

I’ve been sick with the flu for the past few days, which feels pretty close to death, in the same pajamas for days, a rat’s nest head, busted pits, swamp ass and encroaching on the crotch rot. My boobs hurt, my back kills, and I’m exhausted. Worse yet, there’s nothing on TV. I’m watching “Set it and forget it” on shopping networks. This, I’m quite certain, is a trapping from hell. They wooed me in with their Gourmet Magazine footage, convincing me that I’d get practical information mixed up with destination advice, learning about how other cultures live, work, and eat. Then they jump in with colored enamelware in the shape of peppers, apples, or pumpkins. “Perfect for the holidays.” Oooh, evil. Evil because now all I can think about is menus and setting a table. Color schemes. Celery root purees.

It occurs to me that it takes a certain kind of person to work on such a station. To kill time and speak about a turtleneck for twenty minutes is a skill. Oh dear, buy more and save. Stock up. “The hand feel is amazing” is code for “it feels nice.” The great things about these sweaters is that they come in scoop neck, mock turtle, full turtle, and tunic. Add a belt, and it’s a whole new look. I cannot help but think of Bubba Gump Shrimp. “I should have been buying up more scoop necks, you know why? They enlongate my neck.” “Ooh, and they show off your jewelry from our next segment all the better.” Look at the stitch detailing closely enough, and you’ll see that it spells Lucifer. “Total showstopper, I’m telling you.” Your biggest challenge when considering this timeless classic? Mauve, Bone, Raspberry, or my favorite, Teal.