Casa Klutzy. Susan and Mike flirt while he fiddles with her kitchen sink. That is not a euphemism. The doorbell rings: it's Karl. He needs her to sign some tax stuff. She ushers him into the kitchen and does the intros. "Right, the plumber," Karl says, regarding Mike. Mike just gives him a "girl, please," look, and then scampers home to get "the right washer" for Susan's sink. She giggles as he leaves. She signs the papers, and yaps to Karl about Julie's birthday plans: they're going to a piano bar with all her little girlfriends. Karl moons that this sounds really fun. Susan absentmindedly tells him to give her best to Brandi, and he tells her that they've broken up. He caught Brandi with another man. Susan, with great restraint, doesn't inform him snottily that karma is a boomerang, but maturely tells him that she's sorry he had to go through that, and gives him a hug. He squeezes her extra-tight and sniffs that it's "really hard for [him] right now." Mike walks in as Karl and Susan are still hugging, and she shoots him an "I don't even KNOW look," and Mike sort of rolls his eyes, and then she makes the "call me" sign and he leaves with a "what has she gotten herself into now?" expression. Susan extricates herself from Karl's clutches and suggests that he try ripping up old photos. He sadly tells her to have a fun weekend and asks her to let him know how Julie's party goes and she, of course, invites him along, because although Susan is clumsy and slightly dim, she's very kind hearted. Karl embraces her gleefully. "You're the best!" he tells her. She squeaks. "Oh, I am the best, aren't I?" she manages to get out.
Casa One Of These Plots Is Not Like The Other. Lynette is making a to-do list on the back of Mrs. Kravitz's "Missing" flyer. Said flyer, by the way, lists Mrs. Kravitz as being five foot three and one hundred and twenty pounds. Which...no offense, Mrs. Kravitz, but I am so sure. Lynette, by the way, is the very picture of unwashed ass here, all wonky greasy uneven ponytail and washed-out complexion. And it's not like I'm rocking my marabou-trimmed slippers 365 days a year, but Lynette looks like she just crawled out of a sinkhole. She's yapping to Gay Matt about getting a new water heater at the mall the next day, and he moans that he's wiped out and asks if they can talk about it tomorrow. I notice that Lynette has replaced her choker with the only more irritating piece of jewelry in existence: the pinky ring. What next? I literally am unable to think of anything more obnoxious than the pinky ring. Maybe a black velvet choker with a little pewter daisy hanging from it, circa Brenda Walsh. Lynette and Matt settle in to sleep. Lynette mumbles something about Matt setting up the coffee maker. Whiny, whiny -- and why does it matter, on the weekend, if they have to wait five extra minutes for the coffee to brew? I assume the next day is a weekend day, at any rate, because who shops for a water heater on a weekday if it's not an emergency, which this doesn't appear to be. On the other hand, who the hell buys a water heater at the mall? Anyway, Lynette nags Gay Matt into getting out of bed to go downstairs to set up the coffee maker.