Anyway, KimberBree doesn't want to burden the children. Won't someone think of them? "And while we're working things out, the least we can do is keep up appearances," she says, as she pulls the bed sheets off him. "You look so tired," she says. Rex rubs his face and complains that the sofa bed is really uncomfortable. KimberBree smiles that maybe he should move back into bed with her. "We're in marriage counseling. I think that would confuse things," he said. Because...? You'd be acting like...married people? Aren't you supposed to act...married? If you're trying to save your marriage? I mean, I really don't know. KimberBree sighs that she misses him. "I know you do. 'Course, if I don't start getting some sleep pretty soon, I'll be forced to move upstairs out of sheer exhaustion," Rex spits, and climbs the stairs. Well, that's kind of him. Why doesn't he just say, "I don't care how you feel and sleeping next to you makes me want to kill myself"? See? I think KimberBree is trying to show him that she cares about him, and he just doesn't give a shit anymore. And that's okay, I guess, but if that's the case, then be a man and break it off, Rex, you big baby. Don't just passive-aggressively make digs. You TOLD HER you were willing to try to make it work. Anyway, as Rex goes around the corner, KimberBree whips out some conveniently located pliers, pulls back the mattress on the sofa bed, and fiddles with several of the springs, so that they poke right into Rex's back. We can see that this is not the first time she's done this. See? KimberBree's crazy, but at least she takes action! As she smiles down at her handiwork, MAVO explains that KimberBree was not afraid of a challenge.
Morning on Wisteria Lane. MAVO yammers about how it was a day like any other, "with a cup of coffee and the morning paper." She then narrates us through each of her friends' lives: Lynette reads the business section while the boys whack each other with light sabers; Gabrielle reads the style page and has her maid pour her another cup of Colombian roast; KimberBree reads the home section and fixes an unruly flower on her dining-room table; and, finally, Susan reads the front page and gets toast all over her face, which Julie sweetly wipes off. I love Julie. Susan glances at the date on the paper, furrows her brow, and gets up and looks at her calendar. There's a Post-It stuck to the day. It reads, "Mary Alice dinner."