Frog is imagining Toad has already made the transpacific trip to the tiny snowed-in town where he obtained a position as a literature teacher for gifted tadpoles.  Even though the move won't really happen until Autumn, in Frog’s imprudent mind Toad is already there—in a modest apartment, already living his mundane life as a literature teacher.  He is serving himself a bowl of soup and rice for dinner.  Puts them on a tray and takes them into a living room where he turns on the television, slowly eats, and stares at the glass screen.  He will watch the television for one half hour or so, until his eyes start to roll to the side.  Then Toad will get up, carry the tray to the kitchen, and without washing the dishes or going to the toilet, he will immediately fall into bed.  And with closed eyes Toad will sluggishly tuck a thick down blanket around him and disappear into a sound sleep. At 6:00 his alarm clock will sound (really a very plain and boring alarm clock, nothing descriptive about it).  Then he will prepare for another day at the school.

Frog thinks Toad is already there, in the same latitude, sharing a parallel evening and similar climate.  Frog imagines, “if I were to get into the car right now, and start driving, I could arrive at Toad’s apartment at 4am!...Although that might startle Toad…”

But it won’t, because, as I mentioned, Toad is not there yet.  (And also, frogs can’t drive.)

And so I told Frog, “be patient, my friend, Autumn will come soon.”