Simon is looking for an available seat on a city bus. After making flirtatious eye contact with a pretty blonde who must have borrowed Annie's hair for the day, he sits down next to the girl. Her name is Sally, and she is sixteen years old. She says she's attending "tech school," studying to be a nurse. After this soul-baring forty-two-second-long conversation, Sally announces that her stop is coming up. Before she gets off the bus, though, she takes out a giant, ugly, pink pen and scribbles down her phone number for Simon. It's cool that the female is the one to ask for a date this time, though I can't say much for her choice in men. As Sally stands up, the camera closes in on her belly, and we see that she is pregnant. Simon gawks at her as she's walking away. Just in case you'd already drifted off and missed the fact that Sally is pregnant, we get another long shot of her in profile. Are you shocked and appalled? Me neither. It looks like Simon is, though. He stares thoughtfully at the piece of paper with Sally's number on it for a while before crumpling it up. Are you feeling sympathetic for anyone yet?
The opening song is followed by a commercial for Maalox. Expect sales of Maalox to soar this week.
So what do the writers have planned as the traditional time-wasting background scenes for tonight's guest-star credits? It's not nearly as bad as it usually is. Annie is sitting at the CamKitchen table, her chin propped on her hands while she stares morosely into space. At least she looks good, and there's a pretty shot of a window box filled with flowers. How sad, though, that this will probably be the high point of the show. Various CamKids walk through the kitchen, and SuperMom almost psychically reminds them to pick up objects they will need for their day's activities. Her newfound extrasensory perception must be one of the lesser-known side effects of menopause. We see Ruthie standing in the upstairs hallway, waiting to leer at Robbie leaving the bathroom after his morning shower. His scrawny, naked chest is not something I need to see in the morning -- or at any other time of day, really. There's a shot of Lucy walking downstairs to the CamKitchen. She must have put on Ruthie's shirt by mistake. I say this not because it's one of the uglier garments I've ever encountered, but because it's about four sizes too small for her. Annie just says, "Counter," indicating that the car keys Lucy needs are on the counter. In case you haven't already derived enough gleeful entertainment from seeing how the CamPound operates like a well-oiled machine in the mornings, now you can howl with delight as Annie looks at her watch and starts to call out to Eric -- exactly at the same moment he bellows out her name. Even though he's not experiencing menopause yet, Robbie's got the whole psychic thing going on too, as he deduces that Eric is looking for outfits for the twins. But then, Robbie and Eric have always had a certain magic between them.
Annie lets Robbie know that he can rent out the room she's building over the garage. If RevCam is upset that he'll no longer be able to see Robbie getting out of the shower in the mornings, he hides it well. He chooses instead to focus on the building of the room itself, leading to the CamRents' first fight of the day. That didn't take long. RevCam seems to have an incredible talent for simultaneously sucking up to Annie, yet managing to stick his foot in his mouth at every turn. This fight is not worth describing, since we've heard it countless times since Annie went crazy -- I mean, "embarked on her menopause story arc." I wish the CamRents would just get divorced already, or at least take their marital problems to a counselor. Yes, I know RevCam is supposed to be such a counselor himself, but I actually meant that they should take their problems to someone competent. Moving out of fight mode, Annie slides back down into the dumps, lamenting that all her children will probably leave Glenoak soon -- Dopey to med school, Lucy to New York, Simon away to college. Okay, just quit it, SuperMom. You know none of these people are ever going to go anywhere, so don't even torment me with your empty promises. Stephen Collins and Catherine Hicks put their acting skills to the test by claiming, with straight faces, that they would like Mary to come back home. That made me feel sympathetic for them, though probably not in quite the way the writers intended.