Edie is bitching at Karl about what a "pigsty" the house is. Karl yells down from the bedroom that that he'll be down in a minute: "It's almost half-time." Edie huffs, and stacks, and sorts. Karl shouts that he made reservations at "Chez Naomi" for V-day. (Hmmm, now where did we hear about that restaurant before?) Edie: "It's gotta be better than that rathole you took me to on New Year's. And don't even think of getting me carnations again; that crap might have flown for Mayer, but I actually have taste." Just then, Edie goes to put some papers in Karl's briefcase and finds -- you guessed it! -- the ring and the pre-nup! No! Yes. Karl finally comes down, and Edie snaps the briefcase closed and races up to tell him not to bother; she was just joking about the pigsty and his need to help muck it! She smiles the sharkish smile of a woman very pleased to have landed a marrying kind of man.
The horrible P-twins are playing one of those unforgivable, battery-amplified keyboard toys. (My friend, Sophia, likes to "fix" toys like these -- always the ill-considered gift from someone outside the family -- by duct-taping cotton balls over all the sound-blasting points.) Bree frantically asks them to stop playing with the toy -- and really, the sound of that toy would make even a non-hung-over mind melt. The P-twins, unfortunately, are not at all obliging in the "shhh" department. Bree looks at the end of her rope (and her rope was plenty frayed to begin with), and snatches away the piano-hell toy. The boys look hurt and saddened by this development, so Bree sighs and excuses herself.
Cut to Bree sighing back into the couch, a fresh glass of wine in her hands. "All right, boys," she tells them. "Let's have it." The P-twins gleefully pound on the keyboards. The song they play for Bree is...not their best work. What the hell was Lynette thinking? Handing off her kids at the last possible second is bad enough, but handing them off fully loaded with a toy like that is just cruel.
Gabby and Carlos are at the doctor's office. Uh oh. It turns out that there were "complications" from Gabby's fall down the stairs "last month." Was that really just a month ago? My, how the time...adheres to no logic whatsoever, here in fair Fairview. Gabby and Carlos exchange worried glances, and...
...Hot Mom, sitting at the table with Gabby and Carlos, says, "You can't have kids?" Gabby, spooning food onto her plate: "Well, the doctor's not a hundred percent positive, but it's very, very iffy." Hey, there's Xio Mei the Money! And she's wearing a frumpy grey-and-white maid's uniform, which is kind of old-school, and also somewhat off-putting: Gabby makes her maid dress in uniform for a casual lunch with family? Also, it appears as though Xio Mei has been cooking up a storm: the table is positively groaning with food. Hot Mom clucks sympathetically to Carlos, and Carlos sulks. Gabby chides him and mentions adoption. But Carlos wants a baby from his own loins! Gabby: "What does it matter whose DNA it is? The diapers are still going to smell the same regardless." But Carlos wants what he wants. Just then, Hot Mom pipes in with a little offer: perhaps her womb might be of use? She knows it sounds "controversial," but she's in great shape, and she can be trusted to eat well and exercise, and "put the baby's needs first." Gabby says, "No." Hot Mom asks, "Why?" Gabby: "For one, you're on Medicare!" Hot Mom indignantly says that she's "only fifty...one," and then she cites the Englishwoman who birthed her own grandchild at sixty-three. Gabby: "Look, I don't care if she shot triplets out of her ass, it's not going to happen." Now there's an image for you! Gabby turns to Carlos for support, but he's actually kind of into the idea. Claiming a migraine, Gabby leaves to go lie down upstairs. As she's walking away, she sees Hot Mom put her hand on Carlos's arm. "Carlitos, don't worry," soothes Hot Mom. "Just give her time; she'll come around." I'm not at all sure what's going on here, but ew.