Spies or Virals?

Winter isn't here quite yet. But I can feel it coming, and I'm ready for hibernation mode. My problem is that, when I have free time, I'm torn between cleaning, practicing the flute, reading a good book, and watching TV. I usually end up sort of cleaning something while I watch TV. (Mostly, I stand there with cleaning implements in hand, attention on the TV. It's not very effective.) When it gets cold outside, I lose any motivation to clean when I have a minute, and all I want to do is bundle up in a soft blanket and either read or watch TV. Which leads me to the point of this post. It's getting cold outside, especially in the mornings. I've been doing a lot of TV watching and reading.

What have I been watching, you ask? Alias. I watched this entire series 8 years ago when I was pregnant with Jacob and I was in the South in the early part of the sticky, hot summer. After 3 kids and 8 years, I don't remember a thing about what I watched. So when I saw that Netflix was streaming the series, I began watching immediately. Here's what I've learned about being a spy and the seedy underworld in which master criminals operate:

1. No one is ever really dead. They've either faked their death using that stuff from sea urchins, have been cloned, have been cryogenically frozen then brought back to life, or were wearing kevlar without telling their buddies and were relocated to a secret location in the Caymans until the danger was over.

2. Don't trust anyone. Everyone's a double agent. Except Marshall.

3. Bad guys operate out of night clubs. Without exception. This makes it necessary, if you're a spy, to own a large wardrobe consisting of leather mini dresses and spiky jewelry, as well as a large supply of eyeliner and neon colored wigs.

4. Deals between crime lords usually take place behind granaries and industrial parks. There are a lot of those near my house. I'm guessing Ogden is a magnet for organized crime because of all the industrial areas in town.

5. Black sedans and SUVs are bad news.

6. And lastly, a tube of lipstick can be made into anything: a tiny gun, a usb drive, a fingerprint reproducer, a camera, a microphone, a retinal scanner, a parachute. And this is why I can't ever be a spy. I'd be made in seconds if someone saw me casually taking a tube of lipstick out of my purse. My kids don't even know what lipstick is, because they've never seen it at our house.

And what am I reading? A number of books, but now that I've started The Twelve, those books are going by the wayside until I finish this one. The Twelve is book two in a trilogy by Justin Cronin. It's not for the weak of heart. Book one, The Passage, was good enough that when I finished reading it, I had to buy a replacement copy for the friend that loaned it to me. I took it everywhere, and it had finger smudges on the cover from lotion that I was too impatient to rub in all the way before picking up the book again, the corners of the cover were getting a bit rounded and worn, and it got the tiniest bit of water damage from being in the same bag as a sippy cup for 5 minutes, before it got pulled out of the bag and read some more. Please note, book lending friends, that this treatment of a book isn't normal for me, and I make every effort of returning your book in the condition it was in upon lending. Which is why I bought my friend a new one. Anyway, this author knows how to write a good story, and that's why I'm in a bind.

I want to read The Twelve, I want to finish out Alias (is Arvin Sloane really turning back to his evil ways?), my floor needs mopping, and my feet need to be wrapped in a soft soft blanket out of the cold.