So…I’m sick. Yesterday afternoon I was serving lattes and biscotti to people who are probably now starting to get scratchy throats. I actually took the day off—not something I normally do. I don’t generally like the idea that I’m replaceable, that the gap I’d leave if I wasn’t there to do my duties might be filled by anyone else. Anal, huh? Bet you didn’t think I was the type.
Well, I didn’t really get much in the way of a weekend, between my two jobs and my volunteering…so today was my Sunday, my Day of Rest, my Day of Recuperation. I slept in, putzed around, and most blissfully watched MacGyver Season Three episodes. Then my mom came home (with pizza and salt-n-vinegar chips!!) and we had a Veronica Mars marathon (I’m really liking that show!). It was a nice day, aside from all the coughing, congestion, and fatigue. Man, I really sound like a wimp. Hm. Something about being sick brings out the baby in me. Maybe I’m not as tough as I’d like to be, after all.
I wish, for example, that I was tough like Sydney or Veronica. Now there’s a pair of girls who know how to get things done. Whatever it takes, whatever the stakes. Wow. That sounds like an incredibly cheesy tagline. Hmm. I need to stay away from the Nyquil.
But seriously, I love the idea that I could go undercover, get the information (or, y’know, whatever) and make the world a better place. And not just metaphorically. I mean, I love the idea of an alias, of being in disguise and acting out a role…spy stuff. I’ve covered the symbolic reasons for this spy obsession of mine in my post about Alias, but I think there’s a literal side to it, too.
However, I happen to be one of those people who thinks way better on paper than in person. I’m the type who, when insulted, thinks of the perfect comeback hours—maybe days or even years—later. I could never think as quickly on my feet as Veronica or Sydney. I’m not even sure I could lie as well. And I definitely couldn’t sneak around, snooping in people’s apartments and offices. It stresses me out just to watch.
So, as they say, I’ll play to my strengths. I’ll observe, daydream, and maybe eventually write my own spy alter-ego into a story. Perhaps I’ll come up with a slightly klutzier and less self-assured Spygirl—sure, she can still kick butt, but sometimes she’ll get by on sheer luck.
What else is a girl like me to do? Y