Love Is In The Air

Previously: um...I don't really remember. Stuff happened with people and things.

Casa Punch You In The Face. Lynette plays with the baby, while MAVO yammers that while most mothers would agree that their babies are "a gift from God," the gifts the kids give their mothers are "less than heavenly." Wow, less than one minute in and I am already enraged! It's good to be back! This launches us into an infuriating montage of Lynette complaining about the shitty gifts her little children have made for her because she is a TERRIBLE TERRIBLE PERSON. The word "suffered" is used. What a horrible bitch. They are LITTLE CHILDREN who have made you gifts with their LITTLE TINY HANDS because they LOVE YOU and you're pissed because said little gifts are UGLY? Bite me, Lynette. Anyway, today, Lynette's Valentine's Day gift from the boys is a violet plant in a beautiful, mosaic-tiled pot. MAVO yaps that now, at least, Lynette has received something she's not embarrassed to display. The day I am "too embarrassed" to display, say, a drawing done by my as-yet-unconceived child is the day I hope someone slaps me. Lynette asks Parsley, Potato, and Pomegranate where they got the pot, and they chorus that they made it. Lynette proudly puts the pot on her porch and smiles out at the world. Thank God she's not wearing the choker.

Lynette doesn't look nearly as proud the day, when she sees her across-the-street neighbor -- who's played by Kathryn Joosten, best known to me as Mrs. Landingham on The West Wing -- come up on to her porch, examine the pot, and take it with her back across the street. Lynette comes racing out of the door, screaming after Mrs. Landingham about stealing the pot. Mrs. Landingham dryly informs Lynette that the pot is hers: "Your boys stole it off my porch," Mrs. Landingham tells her. Lynette sputters that the boys made the pot, but Mrs. Landingham explains that she got it in Costa Rica, and turns it over so that Lynette can see that the pot's price is marked in "p"s on the bottom. Presumably for pesos, although the currency in Costa Rica is the Colon, and it took me about two seconds to look that up on Google, so way to go, y'all. Lynette falls silent. "What?" Mrs. Landingham asks, crankily. "Nothing more to say? Cat got your tongue? Listen to me: keep your brats off my property." She storms off, as I fall in love. Lynette just does a slow burn as she turns and glares at her boys, who scramble to hide behind their front door.

Across the street, Lynette is yelling at the boys to get their "little fannies inside." Do they not go to school? Should they not be there right now? Oh, right: the children's school schedule must serve the purposes of the plot. "Oh, poor Lynette. If she doesn't get a new nanny soon, she's gonna implode," Susan says. Thank you, writers, for remembering that she's got a nanny en route. Sometimes, I think you DO love me. Mike shushes Susan, and they creep around to the side of his house, where Platform, Parlor, and Permission are hiding in the bushes. Mike asks who they're hiding from. "Our mom," says Pittsburgh. "She wants to spank us." Mike asks if they've been bad, and they all nod in unison. It's pretty cute. In fact, when they're not around Lynette, I find the little Scavos somewhat adorable. Mike tells them that that if they hide too long, Lynette will start to get worried, and that will only make her angrier. It would probably be in their best interests to go on home and "take [their] lumps." If they do, Mike theorizes, there's a decent chance they'll get the rest of the day to play. The boys confer and eventually agree. Mike gives them all a piggyback ride across the street. It's quite cute, really. And Susan agrees, calling his handling of the Trio of Terror "pretty impressive." Mike grins that he loves kids: "I can't wait to have my own someday." Susan responds by falling on her face. No, literally.

Inside Casa Family Counseling, Lynette lays out her instruments of torture: a hickory stick, a ping pong paddle, a spatula. The boys all wail that they don't want to get a spanking. Lynette shrugs: "Too late. You STOLE. And then you LIED. Even worse, you made me look bad in front of [Mrs. Landingham], who you know is Mommy's sworn enemy." Yes, making your mom look bad in front of the neighbors is WAY WORSE than STEALING and LYING. Wait until one of them gets some girl pregnant and then knocks over a liquor store to pay for the abortion rather than tell you about it, Lynette, because it might EMBARRASS YOU. Lynette sucks. She tells the boys to "pick [their] poison," gesturing to the aforementioned instruments of torture: "How about a belt? It's a classic." She runs through the rest of the choices, as the boys continue to wail that they don't want to be spanked. Lynette reminds them that "thieves get spanked, that's just the way it works." Unless! Unless they swear never to steal again and write Mrs. Landingham a nice letter of apology. Parsley, Poultry, and Padlock enthusiastically agree and set to writing. One of them looks up at a terribly smug-looking Lynette and asks her why she's smiling. "Do you know what psychological warfare means?" she asks. Of course, he doesn't. "Well, too bad for you," Lynette sings. ["It's also a good thing for her that he doesn't know what 'mental abuse' means." -- Wing Chun] I wish Lynette would just drop dead.

KimberBree is back visiting her therapist, Dr. Goldfine. She's yapping about a dinner party she and Rex are throwing. "So you and Rex are a couple again?" Dr. Goldfine asks. "Yes!" KimberBree sings. Um, you are? Since when? Did I black out somewhere? Are these episodes airing out of order? I am...pretty confused. I know they're living together, but I don't recall them deciding to try to work on the marriage for real, exactly. But let's just go with it. KimberBree is waxing poetic about dinner parties. She missed them, when she and Rex were separated: "There's just something so elegant and civilized about them, don't you think?" Yes, especially when your husband's habit of crying during sex comes up at the dinner table. Parenthetically, Dr. Goldfine's suit is lovely, as is his new office set. He asks KimberBree whether she's resolved her feelings about Rex's infidelity. "Let's just say I've put them in an imaginary box and don't plan on looking at them for a while," KimberBree smiles. Dr. Goldfine isn't sure, but he doesn't think that sounds very healthy. KimberBree tells him that she's sure she's in for many, many years of "forced smiles and perfunctory lovemaking," but "after a few decades whiz by, [she's] sure she'll find a way to forgive [Rex]." Dr. Goldfine sort of shrugs, "As long as you have a plan." KimberBree smiles sadly. "I do want to forgive him, Dr. Goldfine," she finally tells him. "But there's something he's still not telling me." She thinks it has to do with why he had the affair. And she confronted him once, she explains, but he wouldn't tell her anything. "You know what it is, don't you?" she asks. Dr. Goldfine reminds her that she knows he can't discuss other patients. "I realize that...this thing that he's hiding...is it bad?" KimberBree asks gingerly. Dr. Goldfine says nothing, which KimberBree takes as a yes. She perks that maybe it's better that she don't know. Dr. Goldfine wisely points out that KimberBree and Rex's reconciliation doesn't stand a chance if they can't be honest with each other. KimberBree smiles and says that she and Rex are WASPs: "Not acknowledging the elephant in the room is what we do best." Dr. Goldfine wonders if she's willing to settle for "a life filled with repression and denial." KimberBree tells him, sadly, not to forget the dinner parties.

So, Gabrielle, in the Who Cares? Plot of the Week, takes a job lying on a mattress at "Siesta King." I don't know why she's constantly surprised that she has to take these crappy jobs when she's getting booked for jobs in Nowheresville. The Siesta King himself tells her that she's there to "remind people there are a lot of fun things you can do on a Siesta King mattress that don't involve sleeping." He's talking about nailing hot models, if you were wondering. We smash into a montage of all the tragic cruelties Gabrielle has to put up with as a mattress model. They include being forced to lie to a fat guy and being sandwiched between two bored-looking lesbians. Oh, my heart bleeds for you, Princess. It's so hard to be so pretty and unappreciated. Plus, there's probably a pea under that mattress.

Casa Drop Dead. Lynette does laundry. The front door slams shut, so she goes to investigate and finds Mrs. Landingham climbing her stairs. Well, sure, if I was living in a neighborhood where a woman was recently bludgeoned to death with a blender and the killer was still on the loose, I'd leave my front door unlocked, too. Lynette chases Mrs. Landingham into the boys' room and demands to know what the hell she's doing. Mrs. Landingham pokes through one of the kids' bunk beds. "Your little criminals snuck into my house and stole my wall clock," she says. "It was a hand-painted purple and white wall clock. My son made it." Lynette delicately suggests that Mrs. Landingham probably just forgot where she put it, because she's so old and stuff. And because people TOTALLY move their WALL CLOCKS around like a set of keys. Why, just yesterday I put my wall clock in the freezer and hung my ice cream on the wall! "No offense, but you probably forget where you put things," is how Lynette puts it. Mrs. Landingham gives her a dirty look. "No offense, but you should be sterilized," she says. Is it too late for me to send her a Valentine? Lynette snaps that the boys only steal things that are ALREADY OUTSIDE, and points out that they apologized for taking her pot. "They wrote a note!" Mrs. Landingham tells her. "That's the coward's way out! They should have come over and apologized in person." I can't believe I didn't get all worked up about that earlier, because she's right. When I was a kid, we lived behind a family that had a swimming pool and one of my favorite games -- unbeknownst to my mother -- was to toss rocks over our wall and into their yard. You got a point if the rock landed in the pool. It made such a delightful splash! Anyway, this eventually broke their pool filter, and the neighbor came around to tell my mother about it (while I hid under the bed. A fine moment for me. I was only eight or so at the time, in my defense). My mother was not pleased, and she marched me right over there to ring the bell and apologize in person. It was extremely scary and embarrassing for me, and, to this day, I have never thrown a rock in someone's swimming pool. A few summers later, the family two doors down was setting off fireworks on the 4th of July and one of them landed on the Swimming Pool Family's roof and their house burned to the ground while they were out. They must have HATED living in our neighborhood. Anyway, Lynette tries to kick Mrs. Landingham out, but she's just getting started: "You let those boys run wild! Toys all over the yard, there's bikes lying out in the street, it's a disgrace!" Lynette yells at her to get out. "Those boys would have been better off raised by wolves," Mrs. Landingham yells, as she leaves. "God knows they would have been cleaner." She is just the best.

Casa Perfection. Rex reads while KimberBree needlepoints. She notes that the day is Valentine's Day, and he smiles that he already bought her gifts. "Roses and English toffee?" KimberBree asks. "Just like always," Rex sings. In case you're taking notes, I love roses and English toffee. "I suppose we'll make love tomorrow night, too?" KimberBree asks, and then notes anemically that she's "looking forward to it." Rex has no real reaction to this. Yeah, their sexual problems are totally resolved. "Are you looking forward to it?" KimberBree asks. Rex just looks confused about how he's going to get out of this line of questioning without lying. KimberBree finally blurts that she knows she doesn't "please him sexually," so she couldn't help wondering if he's really looking forward to tapping her hot ass or what. Rex groans, and she gets up and sits to him, telling him she can't pretend this doesn't upset her. "You went to another woman for sex to give you something I couldn't. At least have the decency to tell me what that something is," she pleads. But Rex doesn't wanna. He can't, in fact, he claims. "Rex, please tell me," KimberBree asks. "Let me prove to you how much I love you." Finally, Rex squeaks out, "I like to be dominated." KimberBree: "Huh?" Rex gulps. "Sexually," he clarifies. KimberBree: "HUH?" Rex mutters, "Never mind," but KimberBree asks him to help her understand.

Meanwhile, Mike is canvassing the neighborhood, continuing his run as The Most Ineffectual Investigator Ever. Even MAVO notes that he was searching for answers in all the wrong places, and she hardly ever knows what she's talking about. In fact, one of the places in which he searches for answers is so wrong that after he knocks once, perfunctorily, he decides just to break in, without even considering that the person who lives there just might be in the shower or avoiding strange visitors, and it turns out that the person who lives there is home, and he shoots Mike. Mike manages to stagger out to his truck, where he examines the wound. It doesn't look serious, but it does look painful. Oh, Mike.

So, back at his place, Mike has some random black-market doctor stitch him up. Black Market Doctor notes that "Noah's getting impatient." Well, and George is getting upset. We can't all have what we want. Mike swears that he's "getting closer." BMD looks at Mike's trusty picture of Deirdre, and says that he can't believe "a kid from such a good family can get so messed up." Mike says that he met someone who recognized her photo. "I think she rented a room over on Pine Avenue," he adds. Wow, I so don't care about Deidre. Anyway, the phone rings, and Susan begins to leave a message on the machine.

Cut to Susan at home, talking into the phone. She says she knows Mike's home and she really needs to talk to him about something and she's coming over. Mike grabs the phone and grunts a hello. Susan asks if he's okay, and he lies that he just stubbed his toe. She totally doesn't care. She really needs to talk to him. Mike says that he has "a buddy" over, and wonders if it can wait until dinner the day. Susan: "It's kind of important...I guess it can wait. See you at 7?" Mike groans that he's counting the minutes, and he hangs up and rolls his eyes. BMD thinks Mike should "take it easy," but Mike says he can't cancel on Susan: "The last thing I need is for her to get suspicious." Yeah, it totally sounds like he's in the market for some cervix.

The day -- I guess. Who knows? This show exists in a land without days -- Lynette comes home and starts unloading her groceries. Mrs. Landingham drives by, slows down, and calls out the window, "Maybe it's my dementia, but I still haven't found my purple wall clock." Lynette snaps that no one knows or cares where Mrs. Landingham's stupid clock is, because Lynette is a master of diplomacy. Gay Matt comes outside -- presumably to help bring in the groceries -- as Mrs. Landingham notes that one of the boys has left his bike in the street, and asks them to move it. Lynette brats that she'll move it when Mrs. Landingham says "please." So Mrs. Landingham turns her car around and goes ahead and rolls over the bike six or seven times. So Lynette? Eggs first Mrs. Landingham's car, and then, when the old woman gets out, throws a raw egg right in her face. Look, Mrs. Landingham shouldn't have driven over the bike, but I was raised to believe that it is never okay to stoop to someone's level like that, first of all, and, second of all, that it is never, ever, EVER okay to THROW AN EGG IN SOMEONE'S FACE. Especially if the someone in question is an old woman. My own grandmother could be a bit of a piece of work -- although I adored her -- but if someone threw an egg in her face, even if she was being a pain to them, I would have found that person and RUINED HER. Mrs. Landingham is an OLD LADY. Don't pick on someone weaker than you are, Lynette, even if she is acting like kind of a bitch. Not to mention the fact that there's a very real difference between attacking an object -- like the bike -- and attacking a person, and guess which one is worse? My God, no wonder your children are such holy terrors. You're setting a terrible, terrible example and I want to punch you in the face. Gay Matt just looks weary and wonders if Lynette's offer to leave him and take the kids if he cheats on her still stands.

Gabrielle is still -- or again? The writers don't care, so why should we? -- at Siesta King. She has fashioned a Please Do Not Talk to the Model sign out of cardboard and appears to be trying to take a nap. Blah blah blah, no one cares about this week's D storyline. All you need to know is that Gabrielle gets fired for having a bad attitude.

Lynette calls her insurance company to find out whether her policy covers juvenile fits of pique: "The egg was mine. Can I please speak to you supervisor?" Gay Matt comes inside and tells her he has something to show her. Inside the boys' playhouse are piles of clearly pilfered goods, including a purple wall clock. Lynette deadpans, "Pack your bags. We've moving."

Casa Kravitz. Felicia looks through Martha's scrapbooks until she finds one called "Family." She flips through it until she finds a photograph of herself with Mary Alice/Angela at the "Dorothy Drake Rehabilitation House." It appears as though they are both nurses. She smiles to herself.

Gabrielle wanders over to what looks like a combination of Sephora and the makeup and body wash section of Victoria's Secret. She's there for moisturizer, but she ends up with a job. And part of her job? Is a makeover for her former maid, Yao Lin. Who is, not surprisingly, quite pleased by this turn of events. Gabrielle tries to explain that she "felt terrible" about the way they left things, but Yao Lin snaps that she just needs lipstick: "Now." Gabrielle notes that this role reversal must be "a dream come true" for Yao Lin, who doesn't exactly agree, but who does note that she "can't complain." Gabrielle says that's the difference between them: their dreams: "I dreamed of pulling myself up from nothing and I did. I dreamed about the things I wanted and I got them all. A high-powered career, a handsome husband, an extravagant house. So this is just a blip on the radar for me. Because now? I know what I'm capable of. And if I did it once, I can do it again. I'm never really down, Yao Lin, even when it looks like I am. So enjoy this moment. Enjoy your dream. Because, for you, it doesn't get any better than this." She hands Yao Lin a hand mirror. "There. Don't you look beautiful?" Gabrielle asks. Yao Lin just gives her a look like, "God, that monologue was long. I'm not even going to ask you to validate my parking. I don't want to give you an excuse to start talking again."

La Petite Fleur. A random busboy is trying to fix a wiggly table with a doorstop. Of course, this is Mike and Susan's table, because it wouldn't be an episode of Desperate Housewives if Susan didn't somehow humiliate herself in public. She's already got a head start in her dress, which is made of silver lam and looks like something Hooker Barbie would wear to an intergalactic space ball. She tells Mike, in fact, that her dress is riding up, so she can't walk too fast, or it'll be "Happy Valentine's Day to everyone." Or, as Patsy Stone would say, the world will be her gynecologist. Susan takes a seat, not noticing that the busboy is still under the table. He asks her to excuse him and, of course, gets an eyeful of her lady parts. Susan screams, leaps back, and knocks over a waiter, who drops his tray full of food. A woman slips on the food and falls right onto Mike, who catches her and reopens his stitches and starts to bleed. Susan sits back down, and Mike just looks pained. Literally.

Wine is poured. Cards are read. Gunshot wounds bleed. Susan spares no time, and launches right into her whole I Don't Want A Baby speech. Mike looks sweaty and quite uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Lynette and Gay Matt have dinner at home. Gay Matt is wearing an unfortunate blue mock turtleneck. The sweet nothings he's whispering to her consist of a request that she go across the street and apologize to Mrs. Landingham. Lynette whines that she doesn't want to. She just can't. Gay Matt tells her she has to, in order to be a good neighbor. Lynette whines that now they're even and they can start from scratch. Gay Matt sighs. "Okay, if the Being a Pleasant Human Being argument doesn't fly with you, we'll try self-preservation," he says. Oh, Matt. It's so adorably nave that you started out trying to appeal to Lynette's better nature when it's quite clear she doesn't have one. He argues that, if their house catches on fire, they want Mrs. Landingham to care enough to call the fire department. Lynette brats that if the house is on fire, Mrs. Landingham probably set it. Gay Matt doesn't tell her that he's sick of her childish behavior, but instead just says that they are going to need Mrs. Landingham's help one day: "And I don't want her not to help us just because of some silly feud." Finally, Lynette and her bad eyeliner agree with Gay Matt. They make out.

Over at La Petite Disaster Susan is still yapping about her cervix and Mike is still bleeding. She finally notices how pale he is: "Oh god, you're not taking this well," Susan breathes. "Oh, I was afraid of this." Mike drips some blood on the floor and announces that he has to go. Susan looks legitimately shocked. "What?" she asks. Mike apologizes and gets up. Susan stands and looks after him. "I can't believe this," she tells him. "You're leaving without even trying to talk me into having your baby? How do you know I wouldn't cave? I always cave!" What Mike does, though, is pass out.

Casa Domination. Rex climbs in bed to KimberBree. After some staring at each other, they say good night and he turns over, sulkily. Finally, KimberBree sighs, and asks him how this "domination thing" works. Rex rolls over and smiles at her. thing you know, he's taking a box of stuff out of the closet -- like she wouldn't have found that while reorganizing her shoe trees or something -- and explains that they'll mostly be "constructing simple scenarios and acting them out." Like a play, KimberBree comments. "Kind of," Rex says, and then explains the concept of a "control word" -- what I've always heard referred to as a "safe word," and the word they're supposed to use if things start freaking them out: "Lately, I've been using 'Philadelphia.'" Nice. Way to remind her that you've been running around on her, dude. KimberBree doesn't want to use "Philadelphia." Her Aunt Fern lives there: "And I don't want t be thinking about her while I'm spanking you with a leather strap." Rex sees her point, and tells her to pick a word. KimberBree suggests "Boise." Rex thinks "Boise" is too funny, and will "ruin the mood." They need something that "sounds very serious," he tells her. KimberBree gives this some thought. "How about 'Palestine'?" she asks very, very solemnly. I can't explain how hilariously that line was delivered. I actually had to pause my TiVo to laugh. Rex just looks at her. "'Boise' will be fine," he says.