Oh, the Quizno's talking baby. Each time I watch this commercial, I die a slow death. Why should I trust the word of a breast-feeder when it comes to the value of toasted sandwiches? But and yet, there is something about that chair he sits in that compels me. I want the talking Quizno baby's CHAIR! My god, am I drunk right now?
Lynette lets herself into Mrs. McLandingham's house, using a key borrowed from some other neighbor. Mrs. McLandingham is sitting right there in her chair. Why, Lynette wonders, didn't she answer her door? "Because I was hoping you'd go away!" Lynette ignores the barb and asks if Mrs. McLandingham has been taking her arthritis medication. No, she hasn't, because sometimes the pain goes away on its own. "Unh huh," Lynette says, "and is that why you didn't open the door, because of your hand?" Mrs. McLandingham ignores her. Lynette wonders if there isn't someone to help Mrs. McLandingham out. No, she insists, she's FINE. Okay then! Lynette turns to go, and I'm just about ready to throw another log on the anti-Lynette bonfire when Mrs. McLandingham asks if, before she goes, Lynette could open her bottle of pain medication. "And don't get your hands all over them, god knows where you kids have been, the last thing I need is a case of pink-eye." And, in the face of all that crank, Lynette smiles. It is a very generous moment, and I start to wonder if perhaps Lynette's heart is no longer three sizes too small. "You're a piece of work," she says as she struggles to open one of Mrs. McLandingham's bottles. "Well this is crazy, why did they give you child-proof caps?" First thing tomorrow, Lynette is going to take Mrs. McLandingham to the pharmacy and get her some new bottles. Mrs. McLandingham laughs that Lynette doesn't even like her: "I don't want you doing anything because you feel obligated." "Let me tell you something," Lynette says, "half of life is obligation. You don't want to go to your husband's company Christmas party, but you do. You don't want to sell candy so your kid's band can buy piccolos, but you do it. You attend your third cousin's wedding, you pick up the dry cleaning. That's life: obligations. And you are now my obligation." Mrs. McLandingham is sarcastically moved by Lynette's "outpouring of compassion." "We don't have to be friends," Lynette tells her, "but we are two human beings, living on the same piece of earth, we can at least try to help each other once in awhile." And with that, Lynette takes back the Tiffany lamp. Why, Lynette, I do believe there may just be hope for you after all!