Double Agent

I find myself in a bad position. I am stuck between two friends -- K and L. The two are part of my circle at work and lately they have not been seeing eye-to-eye. So suddenly, I am stuck in the middle.

Admittedly they are two very different people and from my perspective I would not want it any other way. I enjoy the contrast they provide in my life. K is ditsy. She is fun loving and always has to be the center of attention. She loves fashion more than she does books and values appearances above everything. She is street smart and has a very kind heart. I hang out with her outside of work, too. She likes going to clubs and loves dancing. She also shares my sense of style. L is my Charlotte. She wears Ann Taylor, even on the weekends. She enjoys reading and shares my passion for education. She is married to a nerdy accountant who likes to wear Dockers with non-matching shoes and belt. She lives in the suburbs. She is very tender hearted and worries too much about other people's opinions. She is the one I go to when I need honest, intelligent advice about serious life issues. K is the one I go to when I need advice about which shoes go with which purse. I need them both.

But lately, I feel like I am betraying my friendship with them. K will come to me and complain about something L said. And in some cases I agree. Sometimes she is too judgemental and looks down on people who don't have a college degree. She does come across as being kind of uppity and is pretty conservative in dress and appearance. Then L will come and complain about K. And again I agree. She does have a tendency to grossly exaggerate everything, mostly for the dramatic effect. She is sometimes careless with money and often flaunts its. She tells tall tales that don't always add up. She is not career driven or interested in academic pursuits. She discounts people who are.

So I agree and nod, the whole time feeling like I am doing something wrong. Although in some cases their assesment of each other is right on, sometimes it is completely off. And I share that, too. I try to provide insightful feedback. I try to point out fundamental differences in values and experiences that make each one who they are. I try to promote just loving someone for who they are. But sometimes I fall into the trap of editorializing while I am providing advice or mitigating conflict. I suspect it is human nature. And well, honestly, some of it is true. But I guess the difference is I don't have opinions about it either way. I don't care that K can sometimes be shallow--I don't need her to be deep. I have other people for that. And same with L, I could care less if she is not a fashionista. That's not why I value her. So I guess it is okay sometimes to be a double agent--sometimes I just don't think it can be avoided.

A sign?

A really strange thing happened to me earlier this week. I came into the office and was greeted by my good pal K. I met K when I first started at Standard over three years ago. We became fast friends as we shared many of the same interests and even some of the same acquintances. K's sister also works at Standard and it just so happens that she is also my boss. It could be awkard except for K and her sister are really not that close. Over the years, we have managed to strike a balance between things we can share and things we should not share.

However, even with that in mind, sometimes I feel myself caught in the middle. On this particular day, that is were I found myself. We meet for breakfast every morning at my desk which is located right next to K's sister.

"Sissy and I are fighting. So I will just meet you in the lobby."

"What now?"

"Oh, she really pissed me off this time."

"I have to hear this. Let's go back to your desk."

A little background about my boss. She is a recent born-again Christian which is great, but lately I am sensing that she is getting dangerously fanatic. She belongs to an interesting church where you don't need formal theology training to be a pastor and people "lay hands" on the sick to heal. She doesn't consider herself lucky, but rather "blessed" when any good thing happens to her. And most recently she gave me a copy of "The Purpose Driven Life" to read and has come to the conclusion that as a result of reading "The Da Vinci Code" I have gone to the "dark side". Enough said?

K is going through a tough time because her 2 year old daughter has a stomach problem that they have been unable to properly diagnose and treat. It has been going on since she was an infant. Desperate to comfort her daughter, she has finally decided to seek advice from the specialists at the children's hospital. Her first appointment was Tuesday last week.

Apparently, her sister had stopped by her desk to find out how things went. After listening patiently for a few moments, she decided to provide her own input. Apparently, as a child, she also suffered from a painful stomach ailment. In fact, it continued to inflict her through adulthood. But after having the hands laid on her, the pain has mysteriously disappeared.

"You need to bring your daughter to our church and have the elders lay hands on her and pray. That is the only way she is going to ever get better."

K's sensibilities felt assaulted. The two were raised in the same God fearing household, but with her sister's recent commitment to this new church, there has been a fundamental parting of opinions. K had recently shared with me that her entire family suspects her sister has been inducted into some kind of religious cult. K considers herself to be a practicing Christian and believes very strongly in the power of prayer. However, she is also a logical person and recognizes the practicality of Western medicine. Needless to say, the two siblings had a falling out for everyone to see. I am sure the scene was equally devastating to my manger, who is much into appearances.

"Wow! Sorry I missed it! But seriously, that is just weird!"

"I know--want to get breakfast?"

There is a small deli down the street that has great smoothies. That is where we go most mornings. It is mostly Standard people, since we get a 50% discount on all beverages there. So most of the faces are familiar. That morning, as we waited for our drinks, an unfamiliar face was seated next to us. K decided on a sour apple "Jet Tea". The drink is bright green like Midori and it excited some interest from the stranger sitting next to us.

"What is that?" the voice slightly slurred, almost too slow.

"It's a Jet Tea."

"Looks good."

At this we can see the mental capacity of this stranger is slightly diminished. While waiting for my smoothie, we begin loosely discussing the details of K's daughter's appointment. After a while, we are interupted by the stranger. This time with more clarity than the first.

"What's wrong with your daughter?"

"She's sick."

"Do you believe in the power of the Lord?"

"Yes."

"Good. You know he can help you right?"

"Yes. I pray for her all the time."

"Do you pray with a congregation?"

"No, I pray for her and my mom prays for her."

"You need to pray with a congregation. Have them lay hands on her. God loves you. He loves your daughter, too."

What the heck? It was almost like someone planted her there. She had no way to know about the conversation we had just had. And what was more surreal, was the clarity with which she spoke to us. Just minutes before her speech was slurred, slow. Just then my drink arrived.

"Thank you."

"Uh, yeah. Thank you."

"God bless you."

I am not a religious person myself, but I will admit, that experience was truly weird. I could tell that K was shaken. The blood had drained from her face and her arms were flush. We spoke about it only briefly because neither one of us really knew how to react. Even I felt the hair on my arms standing on edge. I don't know quite what to make of it, but I can say that I have never experienced anything quite like that before. Was it a sign?

"Mercy" I cry!

I would have to say that this past Sunday morning was one of the worst mornings of my life. D left Thursday for a camping trip with the guys and was not due back until Sunday afternoon. I had spent most of Thursday night cleaning the spare room in anticipation of a friend staying the night Friday. Friday night was spent drinking wine and watching season 1 of "Sex and the City". Saturday morning, we woke and spent the day in Seattle. Arriving back home after 9:00 that night, my girlfriend and I polished off a couple of warm slices of banana cream cheesecake from the famed Cheesecake Factory and parted ways. There I was home alone--but you see, even when I am home alone, I am never really home alone.

In addition to my husband, I share my home with four others. Koji, Stussy, Bella, and Ginger--two cats, two dogs. Yes, that's right, four animals. And yes, I often think I am out of my mind. Four very distinct personalities and four small, but very lively, life forms. Fighting sleep I stayed up until just past midnight to hang out with the dogs. Finally, I relegated them to their kennel and readied myself for bed. On my way upstairs, I shut the door to the spare room to keep the cats off the recently laundered sheets and grabbed the phone just in case I needed to call 9-1-1 in the middle of the night.

At 5:30 AM the next day Ginger began barking signaling that she was ready to start the day. This is not unexpected. Not able to read or tell time, she wakes up every day of the week at the same time. I try to ignore here hoping that by some miracle, she will fall back asleep. But no such luck. I roll out of bed carefully and make my way downstairs.

Ginger is my "morning dog". Similiar to my husband, she greets the morning everyday with the energy of a tornado. As I make my way down the basement stairs, I see her waiting patiently at the front of the pen with what appears to be a smile on her face. Her tail is wagging and she looks glad to see me. Bella on the other hand, is much like myself, sharing the belief that mornings always come too soon. Unlike her sister, she remains half asleep on the bed and barely manages to open one eye to peer up at me as I make it to the bottom of the stairs. I pick up Ginger who is poised for the day. Bella is another story. I have to climb into the pen to pick her up and as I do so, she stirs and begins her routine of running from me. With no where to go, I soon have her in my arms and they both follow me up the stairs.

I open the backdoor to take them out and Ginger is quick to oblige. Again, I am forced to contend with Bella. "Bella come," I demand. No response. "Bella, come," I repeat. I am quickly losing my patience. I enter back into the house at which point, Ginger follows. Now Bella is running from me. She dashes behind the couch. "Damnit dog!" I holler. Now I have done it. The cardinal sin of dog training. Motivated by fear, there was no way she was going to let herself be caught. Just then, the phone begins ringing. It is barely 6:00 AM. The phone is upstairs, I had taken with me in case I needed to call 9-1-1.

The nearest phone is in the spare room, so I go running, both Ginger and Bella in tow. As I open the door to the spare room, I am immediately greeted with the foul smell of shit. What the hell?!? "Hello!" I answer out of breath. It's D. I turn my head to spy the biggest pile of crap right on top of the newly washed comforter. "Damn it! One of the cat's shit on the bed! I must have locked Koji in by accident." I am still frantically trying to get the dogs out to the backyard. "I can't talk right now!" I scream and hang up. Bella is darting round and round, countering my every move with a dash. Now I am really screaming. At last I corner her in the spare room. She is under the bed and I manage to grab a leg and pull her out. At long last, I manage to get the dogs outside, so that I may begin the dirty work of cleaning up the shit in the house.

I grab a plastic bag to pick up the shit, tie it off, dispose of the evidence. I return to the room and remove the comforter with the intention of laundering it yet again. As I peel back the comforter, I noticed that the sheets are completely kicked off the mattress. What the hell? I grab one end of the sheets when I notice a huge wet spot on the bed. My worst nightmare had just been realized. One of the cats had pissed on the mattress. Now anyone who has ever owned cats knows that the smell is practically impossible to get out. "Fuck!" I ran downstairs to grab the Nature's Miracle and my Bissell and set to work on cleaning the stain. It was going to be a long morning.

After a few applications and several passes with the Bissell, I brought the dogs in and decided I needed to lay back down. By this time my stomach was burning from the stress. I took two Peptos and grabbed my cell phone. I would try D again. No answer. So instead I called my mother to tell her about the morning I was having. I found no sympathy there. Instead she was laughing her ass off. After getting off the phone, I decided to stay in that room for a while, away from the animals. Except for a few noises, the dogs were pretty quite. If there was one thing I knew about dogs, they were a lot children. If they are too quite, you can be sure they are up to no good.

Getting up from the couch, I made my way into the kitchen. Nothing. Shortly, Ginger comes up the basement stairs with a box of Lever 2000 in her mouth. "Give me that!" I say and put the box on the counter. Just then, I spy a second box. This one torn to shreds in the middle of the living room floor. A few feet away is the bar of soap riddled with teeth marks. That could not have tasted good. Then I see what used to be my eyeglasses mixed in with the pieces of cardboard on the floor. They had managed to pop out the left lense and crush the frame. The right arm had been bent forward and the pad behind the ear chewed off. It looked as if it had been sent through the garbage disposal.

I have never felt so defeated. And by four animals, that when added together, weigh no more than 30 lbs! Silently I picked both dogs up and walked them down to the basement. I returned to collect all the evidence. It would have to be saved and shown to their father when he got home.

As soon as D came through the door, I marched him into the spare room where I had stored all the evidence of the morning. One by one I presented my case. And you know what he did? He laughed his ass off, too!