House and Cuddy are naked in bed again. House has only a laptop covering his crotch. Fortunately, it's a large laptop -- it looks like a 17" Macbook Pro. Unfortunately, certain models have had problems of overheating to the point of burning people in the past. So, watch out, House's crotch! Apparently, Cuddy is telling House about her dream vacation spot. It's in France, though, so ... yuck. Also, she can't remember the name of it. House does, however, as he once noticed that she had a picture of it as her screensaver years ago and stowed that away in his mind. This does not bode well for me if I ever get a boyfriend with a photographic memory and amazing observation skills, as the picture on my laptop is that big grassy hill that comes with Windows XP. It looks nice and all, but I don't think I'd ever want to vacation there.

House has already made travel plans to Mont Saint-Michel -- all Cuddy has to do is click "ok" and they can be in France tomorrow. Incidentally, a quick Wikipedia check on Mont Saint-Michel says its population is just 41, so if House were to go there, he could very well manage to piss off the entire community in less than five minutes. Cuddy says she can't just up and leave. House assumes that she doesn't want to be away from work (where, by the way, you usually can't just announce you'll be on vacation starting tomorrow and not expect to get fired. Same goes for requesting a leave of absence, effective immediately), but Cuddy reminds him that she kind of has a daughter and stuff. Way to think of the kid, Cuddy! It only took you all day to remember that she exists. House says the kid can come too, or be dropped off at Cuddy's mom's house. "This is crazy," Cuddy says. "So you break off your engagement but you won't adjust your schedule," House says, all hurt about the fact that Cuddy doesn't love him enough to abandon her career and daughter. Cuddy says she may not be able to go to France immediately, but they could definitely take a weekend trip in two weeks. Yeah, a weekend trip to Europe. That's simple. I went to England once for a three-day trip, and by the time I was settled in and recovered from jetlag, I basically had to turn around and go back to the airport. Although this was not for a romantic weekend away, but for a funeral, so maybe that's different. Oh, and I got in trouble at work for leaving for a few days on such short notice and I was a Subway Sandwich Artist, which I'm pretty sure is less essential and easier to replace than the Dean of Medicine at a hospital.