So, dearling, get this, Rachael thinks I’m a spy.

A spy? Like working for the Russians?

I don’t know who I am supposed to be working for, but yes, a spy.

Rachael, that girl who works for the print shop downstairs?

Yes, we see each other at Starbucks a lot.

So you’re spying on coffee?

Perhaps!

No, really though, why does she think you’re a spy?

It seems I know many of her friends.

Uhm.

But not in normal ways. I know one of her friends and then one of her coworkers and so on.

Ahh so every where she turns there you are, another connection to her life.

So it would seem.

And thus you must be a spy.

Of course!

Maybe you just make a lot of friends?

That answer is far too simple. Spy is much better.

I agree. It suits you. so, she was kidding, right?

Of course!

Hey, you never know!

But you can hope.

So did she tell you what you were spying for?

Not at all. I assume I would be spying on her, but she doesn’t seem that exciting, at least.

Hmmm. Maybe it’s a cover and she’s afraid you’ll pierce it and discover that she’s a spy!

This is like James Bond guest starring on Three’s Company.

Which, to be fair, we would both watch.

And buy the DVD. And rewatch every year on holidays.