Justin Ther-neaux opens the door to the apartment of one Brenda "Charlotte Light And Snark" Chenowith, a pad which has become much, MUCH nicer since she moved in because your architecture just naturally improves over time when you're in loooooooove. Joe carries a large musical instrument in a case we'll call The Soprano In-Lieu-Of- Further-Character- Development-O-Phone. Brenda asks, "How was the scoring session?" Nowhere near as fulfilling as her own upcoming scoring session with Nate, I imagine. Eh? EHHHHHH? Joe prattles on about it a bit as Brenda flips some pages in her fancy, fancy smart book, and he brings her back to the tethered-to-suburbia present with the hey-look-at-me line, "I found us a house." She looks at him momentarily like she forgot his name or he said something drug-fueled and nonsensical like "Freemasons run the country!" or "Did you know there's a place in this city called 'Camp for Dogs'?" She collects herself quickly though -- rumor has it she is very, very smart -- asking, "A house?" ("Camp for dogs?") He tells her he made an appointment for them to look at it the following afternoon, and she asks, "This would be for, like, now?" He responds that they're going to need a place to put the kids, adding that she doesn't want to walk across the courtyard every time he has to change a diaper. But then you're two doors separated from all the poo! She asks if he thinks they're ready for this or if they're "talking out of [their] eggs," to which he responds, "I'm not talking out of my eggs. I'm talking out of my basket." What does that mean? Is that gay...oh, never mind.
The lovely and Lisa Loeb-ish Mrs. Former Robert Carl Meinhardt sits with David at Fisher & Diaz. David asks if she would like to include the cause of death, and you say she talks so all the time, "No, thank you. Just say he passed away suddenly, please." David asks with his sensitive we-might-actually- make-it-to-the- funeral-this-week timbre whether he should contact a clergyperson for the service, and she basically tells him, "You say I only hear what I want to," saying for what sounds like not the first time, "We already went over this. We're atheists." Do people really use that word to describe themselves? Especially as a descriptor of what makes them unique as a couple: "We like drives to the country, fondue parties on the deck, and atheism"? She continues on with her speech, driving the point home: "And if I wasn't before, I sure as hell would be now." But really she's just under duress. 'Cause she thought he'd like forever. But now she's not so sure. She's try to tell him that she's clever. But that won't take me anyhow. Or anywhere. With you. Mrs. Former Robert Carl Meinhardt dabs her eyes and thinks of the first conversation they ever had. Let us have a moment of silence and behold the burgeoning passion of two atheists in love. "Don't you just hate God?" "Who?" "Exactly!"