Spring?

    "It's spring!"

    "Well, barely."

    "What do you mean, 'barely?' Look out the window. What do you see?" he says.

     She goes to the window, obediently peers through the streaked glass. "The window needs washing."

    "That's not what I meant! What do you see beyond the window, outside?"

     "Mmmm." She leans her forehead on the window frame, mimicking intense observation. "I see our mail box, our sagging mailbox, the Olson kids walking out their front door--running actually--must be late for the school bus. Ooops, the little one, what's her name--dropped her lunch box.  Oh, now she's got it and is running to catch up. What cute kid."

      She licks her finger and smears it across the streak on the glass. "Must be on the other side," she says. "We've really got to wash these windows--a spring cleaning job."

       "That's a long way away," he says.

       "What is?"

       "Spring cleaning."

        "I thought you said it was spring!"

        "Well, not officially!"

        "Look at the calendar! Spring began on March something, more than 2 months ago!"

         "Then we missed it," he says, and makes a show of rearranging the newspaper, takes a slow drink of coffee, and turns back to the editorial page.