It was never easy being a spy, but Agent 99 had to deal with poor shoe reception.

It was never easy being a spy, but Agent 99 had to deal with poor shoe reception.

Hey, thanks so much for all your comments and concerns about my ruminations delusions on becoming a spy as my next career move.

It makes a dizzy blonde feel great knowing how little faith you have in me much you care about me.

I’m touched. Really I am. So much so, in fact, that I am re-thinking the whole spy thing.

Rethink my outfit? What? Are you serious? I meant to look like a hemorrhoid suppository. Sheesh, some people just don't appreciate the artistic vision or a really good disquise

Rethink my outfit? What? Are you serious? I meant to look like a hemorrhoid suppository. Sheesh, some people just don’t appreciate the artistic vision or a really good disguise.

Maybe being a spy is not for me, but not because I’m too:

1. old (I groan and creak a lot, so stealth may be problematic)

2. klutzy (you wouldn’t want me driving the car while shooting, especially if I had to back the car up–I suck at backing up with or without shooting at people)

3. directionally-challenged (I might get lost on my way to an urgent mission, like to the bathroom)

4. sensitive around things that kersplode (like bombs and people)

No, here are the reasons why the spy business would simply not be for me:

1. Spies travel to exotic places. What the heck would I eat? I have a very limited diet. I can’t be eating kinky food and risking a bowel-related emergency evacuation plan. My cover and my outfit would be totally blown.

2. Spies travel light (and by “light” I mean “with only their fake passports and the weapons they somehow got through those security scanners”). I am what you might call a prepared traveler. I pack for every contingency and for extra days. I need someone to come along with me, just to schlep my bags–yes, that’s plural–for a weekend get-away. When I pack, I assume that all stores have been destroyed at my arrival destination. Now that’s “prepared.”

3. Spies lie and keep secrets. Something happened to me after I quit closet-drinking almost 30 years ago. I lost my ability to lie when I got sober. No one ever talked about that side effect in AA. Let’s say I was on a mission and I was given the code name Gretta. Every time anyone called me Gretta, I would either have my “who me?” look or my crooked “I know something you don’t know” stupid grin smeared across my face. On the up-side, I would avoid a lot a torture.

4. Speaking of torture, that happens to spies. I’m not big on torture. I’m Buddhist. I object to violence, especially directed against me.

5. Speaking of Buddhism and violence, spies are pretty violent. I don’t like things that project at high rates of speed. I’m talking vomit, bullets, insults, rockets, spit balls, or anything coming from a cannon (balls, clowns). You get the idea. I doubt if a Nerf Bat would work in the spy trade. Concealing the thing would be the hardest thing about it.

6. Spies can’t have close relationships. Screw that! Well, not literally. Well, sometimes literally. Oh, never mind.

So, rest easy, People. I’m giving up all plans to change careers again to become a spy. Yes, it has a certain allure, but I am self-aware enough to know that there are more qualified (and probably more way more freaky deaky) people out there who would make better spies than me.

I’ll stick with writing, quilting, and entertaining you with my silly blog posts every once in a while. I know I’m just qualified and freaky deaky enough to do that.

And you wonder why it takes me so long to write. Look at the distractions I have to deal with. I bet Steven King doesn't have to deal with this kind of crap!

And you wonder why it takes me so long to write. Look at the distractions I have to cope with. I bet Steven King doesn’t have to deal with this kind of crap!