Anyway, the point is, someone actually answers the phone with "Polygamy czar," Don bungles the contents of the call (Roman's swindling old ladies with land schemes), and yet, the man sitting at a desk with an actual sign reading "Polygamy czar" is all over this because "We've been trying to get into Juniper Creek for forever. Maybe we could piggyback on [another] investigation." While Don is sweating through the call, Bill is writhing around like an eighth-grader listening to her best friend grill someone else's best friend with "So does he like her, or really like her?" Well, Bill, if you want an anonymous tip handled well, make the damn call yourself.

Barb pulls into her house, calls to make sure none of the other wives are going through her stuff, then commences locking back doors and drawing shades. We then see her standing in front of her mirror in her underwear, giving herself the once-over. When Bill finally comes in, Barb's sitting on the foot of the stairs, wrapped in a blanket. "I couldn't decide where to be," she says. Bill practically swoons from being greeted by his wife in her underwear. "This is perfect," he says.

And then neither he nor Barb can decide where they'd like to commence with their off-schedule sex. Eventually, gravity compels them to settle down in the pantry.

Meanwhile, on the flipside of paradise, the rest of the Henricksons are coming back from the grocery store. All four boys are acting their age. Margene is grimacing as she leans out the passenger window, and Nicki actually notices that Margene's not feeling well. A brief back-and-forth follows: Nicki wants Margene to take the Tylenol in the glove box, Margene wants to go home and knock back something stronger, Nicki wants to keep running errands while they're out because even she gets tired of the chair-and-whip routine required to get the boys in and out of the car, but Margene pleads that she has to go home and lie down. Nicki's car mats will have to wait until later.

Nicki asks if Margene wants to come over tonight to watch a movie, and Margene says, "No, I gotta learn to be more independent." Bless her, she really takes what her spouses say to heart. Nicki, however, is too distracted to seize the opportunity to rant about Barb some more. She's just spotted Bill driving toward them. Bill, who had been sporting one of those vacant, post-coital grins on his face, suddenly goes stone-cold sober. He manages a weak smile and wave to Nicki. She is now intensely suspicious.