Ruthie runs in, only to have missed the call. Lucy tells her to go and tell Daddy Cam that Mommy Cam's okay. Ruthie's all disappointed about not talking to her mom. She says "Blah blah blah!" and sulks away. Simon yells out for the girls to get off the phone, because Dina might call. "Oh, yeah! You need to know what to wear to bed tonight, right?" yells Lucy. Ha. Cold-blooded, Lucy. "That's not FUNNY," Simon whines. "Yes it is!" calls Mary. Simon turns to see RevCam coming down the hall with both babies in his arms. How come last episode everyone exCEPT the parents was taking care of the twins, and now no one wants to do jack? Huh? Huh? Where's the love? Ruthie stomps by, telling RevCam, "Your WIFE called." Then she gets to her room and slams the door. Shut the freak up, Ruthie. Simon and his dad discuss Dina and the Blue Shirt Incident. RevCam can't think of anything suitably smarmy to say, so Simon gets pissed and takes off.

Annie opens the shade and scopes out the sunset. She runs through a few of the grimaces in her repertoire, then turns to Happy. "We'll miss them tomorrow [pronounced the Canadian way], but tonight . . ." I'm waiting. Tonight what? Was Annie the one who bid highest for the Hello Kitty vibrator on eBay? (Tee hee. Just kidding. Just a little housewife humor there.) "Tonight, we sleep," she finishes. Yeah, I think I'm fixing to go to sleep, myself. When are Matt and Shana gonna shag, dang it?

Matt's packing books into a box while Shana packs CDs. Shana's yakking about how NYU's buildings are spread all over the city. Oh, and her academic advisor got her a job in some med lab, and she's so psyched, and blah blah -- but Matt's too selfish to care. I think he's peeved because he wanted to be the only one mopping at a hospital. He slumps on the couch. Shana pops up with her patronizing smile and joins him. "I can love New York and still hate being there without you," she oozes. Shana, please don't wear bright blue with olive green anymore. They kiss audibly, with several head pumps. I swear it doesn't last for more than two seconds, but Shana breaks away and squints concernedly as she says, "What are we doing?" It's called "grossing out the audience," Shana. Matt feathers his fingers against her jaw, making me clench mine sympathetically. "I just wanna be close to you, that's all," he says. Matt, please cut your hair, then shave your sideburns, then wash your whole head really well. "How close?" says Shana. Matt gives a toothpaste-commercial grin and says, "This close." He kisses her, this time reaching under her hair and palming the back of her head. She puts her arm around him and they lie back on the couch a little. Kiss, kiss, head pump, head pump. Piano, commercial.