Back at the house, Logan and Rory are gathering the veritable hoard of supplies they plan to take back to the hospital. Rory has pulled what seems to be hundreds of albums to take along with the portable record player, including some Gershwin and Scott Joplin. "Although," she pauses, "Scott Joplin might be a little zazzley for the hospital." Logan: "Yeah, I don't know what their policy on ragtime is." I mention these details because this scene, while it might have been cute and Gilmorian if it had lasted thirty seconds, ended up going on for, I don't know, thirty days. At one point, I got distracted by something, and had to leave the room, and I came back and it was still going on. I was painfully reminded of a play I did in high school, Ah, Wilderness!, which featured a scene in which another actress and I had to set a huge table while having a circular conversation about nothing. It took forever for me to learn to get it right without ending up with all the plates on one side of the table. Such is the situation here with Rory and Logan going through lists of composers in the record box; locations in the house where Grandpa's favorite Bing 45 could be found; the humor stylings of the Fish Man; Emily's vast collection of shoes; and other books to take from Richard's bedside. The upshot? Rory finally pauses to thank Logan sincerely for being there and helping her with everything. "You don't have to thank me," he says. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." Oh, FINE. I like Logan!
Emily finds Lorelai morosely picking around the gift shop. Lorelai rolls her eyes yet again when her mother starts going over all of the will stuff. I imagine the ominous strains of violins as I see the emotional tornado bearing down on the gift shop. Lorelai bitches that she doesn't want to talk about the will right now: "You're acting like Dad is dead. Dad is not dead." Terse, Emily says that when Richard was in the hospital six years ago, they were caught completely unaware: "So we made a plan. And I am simply following through on the plan." Lorelai gets ugly, asking whether the plan included chatting up Persephone's and ordering tons of fish to keep her skin glowing, and happily discussing Richard's resuscitation desires with the lawyers: "Dad could be dying, and you're dealing with phone calls and checklists. You're not his secretary, Mom. You're his wife." Oh, it's on. "Yes," Emily says, beginning to tear up. "And what would you know about being a wife? You've been married for what, forty days? That is nothing." She spirals through the life she's led with Richard over the last forty years: "For two-thirds of my life, I have been the wife of Richard Gilmore. That's what I do. I take care of him. It's my job and it's what I am. And if I could be performing his surgery right now, I would be, but I can't. It's out of my hands. It's out of my hands and all I can do is wait!" Now, Emily really breaks down: "I could lose him, Lorelai. He's my whole life and there's nothing I can do!" Lorelai finally gets it, and grabs a package of tissues off the shelf. "I'm sorry," Emily cries. "This is inappropriate." Lorelai tells her that it isn't, and they bond over the stolen tissues. They don't go so far as to hug or anything, but we can't ask for too much.