Waking up at 6:00, you rush through getting ready and soon find yourself eating breakfast at the table. Sometimes you wish that you hadn't chosen the lonely life of a spy, and had gone into the private sector instead, but then you realize that everyone that isn't with the KGB is half-starved and a raving drunkard, so you're able to finish your meal with a clear conscience.
As you are putting on your boots you wonder about what would be so important about a new whale song. Why did Dimitri make it sound so important? It's not like those damn fish have a brain or anything. At least your success will give the good ol' USSR a hand up on the USA. You feel eyes on your back.
"Not that the USSR doesn't already have a hand up on the USA..." You say loudly enough for any transmitters to pick up.
After tying your boots you hop into your hot new MiG convertible and wind your way to the airport. The frost last night was awfully bad, and you can barely keep control on the road even with 100% of your attention devoted to driving. As the cold Moscow wind rips through your hair you ponder turning on the radio for a little music.

*turn on a Russian dance hits station
*turn on the government sponsored news channel
*leave the radio off