Me:  'ello - 'ello.  Cahn you hear mee in Amerika?
     Wife:  I'm sorry, all our operators are busy right now, but we'll be happy to force music from the '70s into your ears while you hold.
     Me:  Hey, save the humor for NASA's first manned mission to Mars - this is serious business here.  This is me we're talking about.  And me sees the door.  Here I go!  I'm figuring out the latch...  the handle...  the latch again...  I'm out!
     Wife:  Bravo!  I can finally read all your email in peace!
     Me:  Wow.  It's so unreal out here.  Definitely not the beta version of November 9th.  The sun is like this big mind-altering drug in the sky!  I can actually feel the wind caressing my skin just like in those explicit meteorological novels I'm addicted to.  This is incredible!  I can't even imagine how big the blower motor must be to create a wind like this!
     Wife:  Shut the door - I think something just flew in.
     Me:  Ok...  door is shut...  I'm on the far side of it....  I'm still alive!!  WOW!
     Wife:  Remember your checklist.
     Me:  Oh, right.  Temperature: Must be in the 70s. Small Animal Early Warning System: All clear.  Birds Of Prey/Pterodactyls: Negative. 
     Wife: Proceed to Prime Objective.
     Me:  Ok...  Prime Objective: Mail Retrieval.  I'm stepping off the back stoop.  Down one step... two step... three step...  Patio!  Wooo-hooo! 
     Wife:  I'll notify the medal makers.  Now hurry up - I have to pee.
     Me:  This is really incredible.  If people in Congress ever got out of their smoky back rooms and actually saw the sun, they'd make it a controlled substance available by prescription only.  I see cars going by being operated by people who are obviously driving under the influence of a pleasant day.  I can't see any of 'em ever managing to make it all the way in to work.  It's a shame that a few bureaucrats have decided that dying people have to be kept locked up in hospitals and hospices in the misguided belief that if they're ever given a taste of a day like this to ease their pain, they'll become hopelessly addicted and start breaking into greenhouses all winter long in a crazed attempt to get their next fix.
     Wife:  I said I gotta pee!  Go get the mail already!!
     Me:  Ok.  I see the mailbox.  I'm moving towards it.  You know I forgot to get the mail yesterday, don't you?  Good thing I brought your BIG purse with me.
     Wife:  What?!  You only have two things to do every day - feed the cat and get the mail.  How could you forget to get the mail??
     Me:  The cat was especially hungry.  And there was no mail on Sunday.  Yesterday was Monday.  I got out of the habit.  And I never can quite believe that the mail carriers ever start up again once they've had a day off.  After I had my first two-week vacation from a job back in 1978, I quit, you know.  I've never looked back.
     Wife:  I think you've lifted this entire story from Carl Sandburg's Lincoln bio.  I think you're just a bum suffering from megalomania, that's what I think.
     Me:  Oh my God!
     Wife:  What?!
     Me:  There's a box in the yard!  A BIG box!  It's on its side but if I stood it up it'd be higher than my knees.  I bet you could slip a dozen babies in it, easy - we could even FedEx 'em to Mexico, if you like.
     Wife:  I just wanna PEE!
     Me:  I kinda like the idea of overnight delivery of overnight deliveries myself.  Hey - wait!  The box is open.  There's something in it! 
     Wife:  Well, I'm not diapering 'em.
     Me:  No, no babies - furnace filters!!
     Wife:  What?
     Me:  There are four - no, FIVE furnace filters in this box marked "Farr Technologies" on the side.  Gee - I bet Nearr Technologies kicks their ass.
     Wife:  It must have fallen off a passing truck, huh?
     Me:  No, I prefer to think of it as a kind of modern manna from heaven.  God sent these filters to us because He wanted us to have them and I almost started a fire the last time I tried to make my own.  The box looks like it could have held nine altogether, but I guess He thinks five should get us through the winter. 
     Wife:  Guess heaven finally gets the Weather Channel, so He knows how mild it's supposed to be.
     Me:  Well, He better sign up for a few more stations - these filters are all 16" by 25" by 2" - we use 16" by 25" by 1"!
     Wife:  Just toss 'em back up into the sky and get the mail.  No, wait - check the mail first.  Maybe He realized His mistake and sent us a few negative inches under separate cover.
     Me:  I better get these filters to the garage first before someone gets hurt.
     Wife:  How can anyone -
     Me:  OUCH!
     Wife:  What?!  WHAT?!
     Me:  A falling leaf just hit me in the eye.
     Wife:  Don't touch the filters - I'll get them.  Just get the mail and come in before global warming raises ocean levels and you get swept away.
     Me:  Got it!  Five pieces of junk! 
     Wife:  Just throw them in the nearest burning bush and come back in.  NOW.
     Me:  Hey, that guy across the street is shirtless and in jeans.  Doesn't he know that our city now requires everyone to wear the same uniform to cut down on gangs, concealed weapons, fights, intruders, jealousy, and envy??
     Wife:  That was the schools, Sweetie. 
     Me:  Oh.  So I really needn't have bothered finding my white shirt, dark pants, dress shoes, and bow tie before I checked the mail?
     Wife:  I tried to tell you but I guess you were too busy playing Matador and Bull with Jester to hear.
     Me:  Hey, one false move with the red towel and the little guy could've gored me to death!
     Wife:  He's a CAT!  He doesn't HAVE horns!  Now, could you please live a little faster??  I'm gonna burst!
      Me:  Horns or not, you could have at least tossed me a rose when I managed not to split my pants out jumping behind the couch when he charged.
     Wife:  I'm hanging up.  Here me hanging up?  It goes like this: Click.
     Me:  Mmmm, Baby - reminds us of our dating days.  You have any idea what that does to me?  Hmmm??  Don't be shy....  Sweetie?  Baby? Pumpkinskin?