We theme-cut from Bree's doorstep over to Susan's. Ian has come a-knocking. Susan, who is outside doing some gardening, ducks behind her car to avoid talking to him. Oh, Susan. But nice Mrs. McCluskey just happens to be strolling by, and even though Susan motions frantically for the old lady's silence, Mrs. McC maliciously outs Susan's hiding spot by bellowing a huge hello. Susan being Susan, she lamely tries to explain the fact that she's cowering behind her car by saying that she just dropped her "trowel," but the way she says it, it sounds very much like it's her "trou" she's dropped, as in pants. Which wouldn't be out of character, really. Ian totally confronts Susan on trying to avoid him, and she readily fesses up; it's just that things were so "awkward and complicated" the last time they talked. But Ian isn't there to feel the feelings. He's there to invite Susan to a party he's throwing for an "editor friend," who he thinks Susan really ought to meet. Oh that's right, Ian does work in publishing. And I guess so does Susan -- all they've been doing lately is hanging out at the hospital and having sex in bubble baths, so I kind of forgot that either of them had a job. Ian, fishing for details about Susan's love life, tells her she's welcome to bring a date, which he uses to segue to Mike and "that blonde woman who's been visiting him." Susan dismisses Edie as "just a neighbor" who "visits Mike after her Hepatitis-C treatments." The scene ends awkwardly with Ian pointing to Susan's nose and motioning like she's got some dirt there, but I can't really see anything, so I guess Ian was making a joke, I don't know.
Back once again with Carlos and Gabby and the lawyers. This setup -- the table, Carlos on this side, Gabby on that side, lawyers everywhere -- is getting fantastically old, both the scenery and the whole cantankerous divorce itself. They do some "my stuff, your stuff" bickering, just like last time, and finally Carlos -- who apparently is as sick of this storyline as I am -- stands up and tells his lawyer just to give Gabby what she wants. After all, it's "just stuff." Gabby looks suspicious. Or maybe it's just that she's having trouble breathing in that very tight and insane purple satin top?
Lynette knocks on a dirty door that reads "EST. 1939": Tom peeks his head out and orders her to close her eyes. Before he gives her the go, he wants her to promise that she'll use not her eyes but her "imagination" to look at the space. But Lynette's imagination isn't up to the sight before her, which she describes as "a dump." I don't know. It actually doesn't look all that bad to me -- mostly just dusty, which doesn't really seem like too big a problem. Tom pluckily grants that the place is a "fixer-upper." Lynette: "It's a burner-downer." Tomayto/tomahto, it doesn't matter anyway because Tom's already signed the lease. Lynette screams and hollers. Tom says, "There were multiple offers, I had to move fast." They do some more of the "you don't believe in me"/"you're an idiot" battling we've become so familiar with, and then, just as Tom says that this place is "the best opportunity of [his] life," a rat runs across the floor. They stand there in an awkward silence. Again, I don't really see what the problem is: Tom's already proven himself an effective rat killer. Dictator Lynette snaps into action and informs Tom that they'll just have to sublease the place to one of the other interested parties. Tom yells that she "promised to support [his] dream." Lynette: "My mistake, I assumed you'd have a dream worth supporting." Tom, all quiet, thinks that he'll sleep at the pizzeria tonight. Lynette tries to leave, and the doorknob falls off in her hand. Lynette is horrible; Tom is two.