Ruth and George are unpacking in "their" new apartment. The furniture's there, but there are still half-unpacked boxes strewn everywhere. Ruth asks him for the last four digits of his Social Security number for whatever utility company she's on the phone with, and he rattles them right off so we can see he's doing better. While she gets put on hold, he tells her with some bewilderment that he's looking for their pots and pans. She lies that they must have forgotten them, and that they can just run down to Crate & Barrel and get a new set. George does a little commercial for the nearly new Calphalon set they already have, but Ruth blows off his concerns and finishes her phone call. Then she asks George if he's talked to the dean at his college about going back to work. George says he wants to concentrate on getting better for now. And the next item he unpacks is that little yellow cordless drill he and Ruth bought at Home Depot when she asked him to marry her. She seems to soften a little at this and says, "Okay, I'll go get our pots and pans. I'll be back before you know it." She's out the door. George puts the drill in a place of honor on the kitchen pass-through and chuckles to himself, oblivious to the fact that his days of boring with his wife are numbered.

Claire is interviewing at a temp agency, where things are going well. She even got a 95 on her typing test. The temp lady says only one other person ever got a 100, and she was probably psychic. And that line was written by someone who's never taken a typing test. Claire cuts in to say that she's applied for a grant for emerging artists, and if she gets it -- "which could be this month or this week" -- she'd have to stop working "like, immediately." Someone's a little confident about getting that grant, methinks. "Temp is short for temporary," the temp lady assures her. Wow, I always thought it was short for "getting Totally screwed out of Everything, like benefits, vacation, sick time, and More than half of the hourly rate that the company is Paying for you to be there." You learn something every day. Temp Lady rattles off a generic-sounding office job description, and Claire says without much enthusiasm that it sounds fine. "You have corporate attire, right?" "Like a business suit?" Claire asks. Temp Lady says, "Or a nice blouse. Skirt. Hose." Claire nods tightly. As if she knows from tight yet.