Claire's in the kitchen at home, browsing through the fridge while Ruth gives her a hard time about not going out with her coworkers. "Sometimes you think you're better than anybody else," Ruth says. "Well, you're not." Claire sings the song of the newbie office worker, saying she had no idea that doing nothing all day could make her so tired, and slams the fridge door. Ruth looks up sharply, but doesn't say anything. The truce holds. Claire says she wanted to try to do some work tonight anyway. Ruth asks what she's working on, and Claire confesses that she's totally blocked. Although she uses a lot more words, the last few of which are, "It's kind of the loneliest feeling in the entire world." She looks at Ruth expectantly, hoping for some support. Which, disappointingly, comes in the form of "Oh." Just then the phone rings, and Ruth goes off on a rather dated rant about telemarketers before answering and discovering that the caller is actually George, who wants her to come over tonight. Claire blatantly eavesdrops as Ruth shortly agrees to come over the next day instead. "Is he okay?" Claire asks after Ruth hangs up. Ruth says she's sure George is fine, and she doesn't want to get sucked into whatever's going on with him. "I have my own life now." Keep selling that, Ruth; someone will buy it eventually. Claire says that maybe George is just lonely. Ruth comments, "You seem a lot more sympathetic to him now than you were when he was living here." "It's always easier to be nice to people when you don't have to see them," remarks Claire. It's also easier to be nice to them when they don't bogart your stash. Claire leaves the kitchen so that maybe it'll be easier to be nice to her mother.
From the Fisher kitchen to the David and Keith kitchen. David's sitting at the breakfast nook with Durrell and Anthony, trying to help the former with his homework and not seeming any more eager to admit his ignorance of integers than he was of Quakers. Anthony's got his headphones on, and he's humming along to the crap music he's listening to while the other two try to concentrate on Durrell's math. David pulls the headphones off rather more firmly than necessary, and Anthony immediately shrinks in fear. "Am I in trouble?" he asks worriedly. Aww. David says he's not, but suggests listening to his music in the other room. Anthony promises to be quiet, but then almost immediately breaks his promise by pointing out that something's burning. David rushes to the pot on the stove. The phone rings, and Durrell excitedly asks to get it. David says of course, since Durrell lives there, which takes all the fun out of it for Durrell. At least until he actually answers. "It's your lover," he tells David. "Do I have a lover?" Anthony asks, to snickers from Durrell. David tells Durrell to just say "Keith" from now on. "Yes, Master," Durrell says. His delivery is more genie than house slave, but still earns him a snappish reply from David, who's probably a little touchy about that. While all this is going on, we see Keith on the other end of the line at the Pasqueasel's house, listening in puzzlement as David kicks the boys out of the kitchen. Keith explains to David that he has to "work late," by which he means "chauffeur the Pasqueaslets somewhere." David grumpily says he'll see Keith later, and hangs up. Then he goes over to the table to gather up the kids' stuff, which is when he sees a flyer poking out of Durrell's backpack. He pulls it out and we get a good look at it. It looks like some kind of show; the top reads, "The Franklin Hills Elementary Fifth Graders Proudly Present" and "Friday, April 15 at 11:00 a.m." at the school auditorium on the bottom, but I'm confused by the title: "Celebration of Biodiversity." Must be one of Chekhov's lesser-known works. While David's examining it, Durrell comes back in to the kitchen and yells at him for his nosiness. "I thought we had rules about other people's private stuff!" Durrell bitches. He grabs the flyer out of David's hand and stomps out, leaving David standing there thinking that his own private stuff is way better.